Wake Up To Me
by A-Simple-Rainbow
Summary: It's one am on a Tuesday and Kurt is pulled out of a soulful interpretation of Bootylicious by the door ringing and announcing a costumer. Kurt tosses the yellow cloth away and readjusts the knot on his apron before he makes his way towards the stranger. As the man looks up, Kurt finds himself face to face with Blaine Anderson. Blaine Fucking Anderson. NOTTING HILL AU
1. Part 1 of 4

**An unintentional guide to falling in love with a star**

Step one: make sure you're absolutely and unequivocally not capable of acting like a normal human being upon meeting a celebrity

Kurt Hummel has recently turned nineteen on this fateful day. What's so fateful about it we'll get to in a moment, but first a brief introduction: Kurt Hummel, nineteen years old, halfway through his first year at NYADA, part-time intern at , and part-time waiter at a singing diner, the Spotlight Diner.

Currently working at the diner, Kurt is enjoying the quiet solitude of late weeknights – his favorite shift. No costumers, and hardly any work: just a lot of wiping tables and floors, and unrestrained singing and/or dancing, practicing scales or even getting started on homework and essays. It's one am on a Tuesday and Kurt is pulled out of a soulful interpretation of Bootylicious by the door ringing and announcing a costumer. Rare creatures those are at these times of night, but all the same, too predictable and one of three – the drunkard, the insomniac or the traveller.

A quick glance from where he is wiping the counter tells him traveller – the man is not stumbling his way to a table, and is also dressed as someone who most definitely did not climb out of his bed in search of solace or something to do. Kurt tosses the yellow cloth away and readjusts the knot on his apron before he makes his way towards the stranger.

And _voi-lá_: the fatefulness of the day.

As the man looks up, Kurt finds himself face to face with Blaine Anderson. Blaine Fucking Anderson.

Now, Kurt might not be one of those devoted (to say the least) fans, but to not know who Blaine Anderson is would be to live under a rock. And even then, and regardless of whether Kurt liked the man's work or not (he did, very much, both as a singer, and the few stints he's pulled in acting so far) the truth remained, Blaine Anderson was_ the_ name when it came to today's Pop culture. And he was so despite his being gay, which he openly admitted to since day one. So, again, even if Kurt didn't even so much as tolerate his work, he would never, ever be indifferent to the person standing right in front of him – a person who, had he been around for longer than a year and a half, would have been Kurt's greatest inspiration for getting out of high school unscathed and relatively sane with the promise of a better future.

Having long ago vouched to be as cool as a cucumber when dealing with famous people, Kurt only allowed himself a moment of insanity – when he choked on a nervous giggle – before clearing his throat and smiling as professionally as possible.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

Blaine Anderson smiles – a dashing, most charming smile that Kurt had previously been certain was a product of Photoshop and airbrushing – and says, "Do you think I could get a coffee? Strong? And black?"

"Sure thing…" Kurt nods, "Be right back."

He makes his way back to the counter where he prepares the best damn pot of coffee he's ever prepared, all the while paying rapt attention to the way Blaine Anderson pulls a large, white book that might have been a script out of his bag and starts reading it with a sigh.

He's just about ready to pour him his cup of coffee when the bell rings signaling someone's entrance. Kurt looks up to find a pair of drunken girls stumbling inside. He rolls his eyes, but bites back the groan. Drunkards are the worst.

They giggle uncontrollably as they make their way towards Kurt – they don't even notice Blaine Anderson surveying them from the top of his script.

"Do you have alcohol?" One of them asks, the taller one with a bad hair dye job.

"No." Kurt shakes his head, "This is a diner, not a seven-eleven…"

"Vodka?"

"Again, no. As that qualifies as alcohol." He gives them a squinted smile "And even if we did sell alcohol, it's illegal to sell it to clearly inebriated people such as yourselves."

"You are so lame." The shorter one, with a fake tan, groans.

"Yes, well, that's life." He shrugs, picking up Blaine Anderson's cup of coffee and starting towards his table. He's just turned his back on them when something crashes to the ground. He spins back around a looks to find three saltshakers splattered on the floor.

"What the hell!?"

"That's life!" One of them says, mimicking him with a stupidly high-pitched voice and a sneer.

Kurt counts to five before he turns on his heel and goes back towards Anderson's table, delivering his coffee as unaffected as possible, smiling "Here you go, black and strong."

"Huh, thanks…" Blaine frowns slightly, still looking at the girls before shooting him a quick and warm smile, "Huh, what do you have to eat that's not completely… you know… dried out and old by now?" he scrunches up his nose.

Kurt chuckles, letting go of some tension "We ha-"

"Oh my god!" one of the girls shrieks, "You're Blaine Anderson!"

"Oh my god!" the other echoes, "You totally are!" she groans and half runs, half stumbles towards the table "OH my god! You _have _to give us an autograph!"

"And a picture!" the other says as she positions herself right by him, stretching out her phone.

"Do you have a pen I can borrow?" Anderson turns to Kurt, looking like he'd rather drown than indulge these girls. Kurt nods and hands him the pen.

Anderson doesn't even look up from where he's writing the note, on a napkin, while they take at least three selfies with him. "Here you go." He says, handing them the napkin. One of them holds it close to her face but is apparently to drunk to read.

"Oh my god, thank you, what does it say?"

"Dear girls whose names I don't know or care to know, grow up. And then that's my signature right there."

"Awesome!" they gasp and giggle leaning into each other.

"Goodbye now." Blaine tells them and doesn't wait for them to leave before he's back to staring at his script and sipping his coffee. Kurt watches them leave in awe.

"So about that food?"

"Oh… huh… isn't that like…? Won't you get bad press for it?"

"They'll probably lose the napkin in half an hour… and it's not… I think I can deal with some bad press from ignorant people. It's fine."

"Right, huh, we have… we have blueberry pie and apple pie?I'd recommend the blueberry pie, I mean, it's not _fresh_ fresh… but it came in this evening… so it's not _that_ bad. That apple pie is a little older, I guess."

"Apple pie, please."

"Oh. I mean, the kitchen's closed, but if you'd prefer I can give you a burger or…"

"The apple pie's fine, huh" he squints towards Kurt's chest, "Kurt." He smiles, toothy and bright.

"Alright. I mean, I guess it's not that bad… I'll bring it right over." He has a moment of silent freak out as he hides behind the counter, cutting up the slice and putting it carefully and prettily on the plate. Taking a deep breath he steps out towards Anderson's table again.

"Here you go-o…?" he stutters as he notices Anderson's coffee cup is already empty and the guy is smiling sheepishly, "Refill?"

"Please…!" he breathes, "I'm just… I've just returned from my parents', where there's a no-coffee policy, just a lot of tea, basically, and..."

"It's just not the same." Kurt nods, understandingly, and Anderson sighs with laughter. "I'll be right back."

He makes sure the coffee is still hot and good before he refills the cup and brings it back over. He reaches to put it down on the table just as Anderson goes for the apple pie, and in a split second Anderson is jumping off his chair with a yelp and dark brown stain all over his front.

"Oh my god! Oh no! Oh no! Oh my god! I'm sorry! So sorry! Shit!" Kurt gasps, horrified "I am so sorry!"

"It's fine!" Anderson breathes, voice straining with pain from the hot liquid on his clothes and skin.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" Kurt can't seem to stop saying it as Anderson swipes a hand over his wet clothes, effectively making some it swish off his hands and to the floor, "Let me help!" Kurt says as, apparently his brain freezes and he ducks over to scrub at the stain with his apron.

"I'm fine!" Anderson practically squeals pulling away from Kurt's hands, which, as he now notices were dangerously close to the man's crotch. Of course. "I'm fine…" Anderson half chuckles.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to… assault you or anything! I didn't even think! I…"

"It's ok!" Anderson interrupts, as scarlet faced as Kurt, before he smiles nervously and laughs, "I'm fine, it's fine! I should've looked up to see what you were doing – I was just… so concentrated."

"Oh god… I'm so sorry."

"Kurt, I'm fine!"

"Your clothes are ruined!"

"It's… whatever, it's fine."

Kurt bites down the urge to apologize again and stutters out, "I, huh, I have clothes, if you want."

"What?" Anderson frowns, suddenly confused.

"I, I mean, clean clothes… not these, I could lend you a clean set of clothes."

"Oh!" Blaine gasps "Right. I…"

"I always bring a clean set of clothes, because by the time I end my shift I always smell like French fries and ketchup… you know…" he finishes lamely "It's fine. You can have them."

"Oh."

"I can deal with a greasy smell for tonight… But those clothes are about to become extremely uncomfortable, as soon as the coffee starts cooling…" he continues, gaining speed and confidence in the fact that his offer isn't entirely outrageous and farfetched.

"Oh, I guess… Hum…. You really don't mind?"

"No, not at all."

"Thanks." Anderson smiles with a huff, "I guess it'll be better than this."

Kurt nods and tries not to let out any of the screaming happening inside his head. Blaine Anderson is about to wear _his _clothes. "You can get dressed in the break room. Follow me." He adds with a voice he knows sounds weird, hopefully Anderson will understand it as nervousness and not creepiness or anything like that.

Kurt doesn't look back, only sparing a glance over his shoulder, before he grabs his bag and pulls out – cringing slightly – his favorite pair of jeans and – swallowing in relief – the plain black shirt, he's been considering sending to an old age home by now.

"I don't have an undershirt…" he frowns slight "sorry…"

"No, this is fine! This is more than great! Thanks!"

"Ok, so, here you go." He says as he hands the small pile and moves towards the door "I'll be right outside." And then cringes "I mean, I'll be outside. Not right outside… just… outside."

Anderson is looking at him with an almost smile before he says, "Ok. I'll be _right_ out."

Kurt feels his cheeks burning like they've never burned before and just swallows and nods before turning around and leaving, closing the door behind him. He stays still for a long minute before he takes a deep breath and goes over to the fridge, opening it and just sticking his head inside. It's no oven, and he's no Sylvia Plath, but it'll do for now.

Of course – of course – that's how Anderson finds him, "Kurt, do you have a bag-"

Kurt steps back and shuts the refrigerator door with so much force and speed that he hears the clatter of shelves and things falling and crashing inside. He cringes and tries to make the floor swallow him whole out of sheer will.

Anderson is looking at him through squinted, possibly amused eyes, holding a pile of his coffee-stained clothes, "bag for my clothes…?"

Kurt nods, a tiny whimper escaping him and making him feel even worse.

"Were you sticking your head in the fridge?"

Kurt nods again, desperately waiting for that floor to swallow him.

"Well, I suppose the 'right out there, but not_ right_ right…' thing was kind of bad." Anderson says, but his smile is kind and only a little teasing "but there's no need to put your head in a fridge over it. Although, I do appreciate the innovation, in regards to not putting it in the oven."

"The fridge was closer." Kurt mumbles.

"Pragmatic." The other man says with an approving nod, "So, about that bag for my clothes, any chance I could get one?"

"Sure." Kurt springs into action at once to get him one of the diner's paper bags.

"Maybe it'd be a bad idea to ask for another cup of coffee,…?" Anderson asks with amusement.

"I'll be_ right_ out with it." Kurt returns the smile, as cheekily as he can, still blushing, while the other man actually laughs and goes back to his table. Kurt tries not to choke on how tight his jeans are on Blaine Freaking Anderson's ass, and instead goes back to make a new batch of coffee and definitely not think about that ass. That amazing as-not thinking about it, Kurt, _not thinking about it_.

Upon returning with Anderson's coffee he makes sure to put it down extra carefully.

"Very nice…" Anderson grins "Not even a drop."

"Thanks, thanks! It's a talent. But I have yet to perfect dealing with incoming hands, obviously. So…"

Anderson gives him a warm smile, as he takes the cup and sips it.

"I'll be over there if you need anything else." Kurt says before turning on his heel and going back to the counter.

"Ok. Thanks"

It's still a while before Blaine Anderson finally closes his script – only halfway through, and stretches his arms over his head taking the last, long forgotten piece of pie, and getting up, taking his wallet out of his bag and coming towards the counter.

"So, how much do I owe you."

"A piece of pie and two cups of coff-"

"Three."

"The one all over your clothes doesn't count. You can't drink that."

"Is that a dare?"

"Gross, no." Kurt wrinkles his nose and Anderson laughs, "That'll be seven thirty."

He hands him a ten and says, "Keep the change. Or… hum, should I tip you better? I mean, I don't want to have bad press." He adds with a wink.

Kurt feels his neck burning slightly as he shakes his head "That's more than fine, thanks." He says, and then automatically adds, "Come again, soon." And blanches, "Or, hum… don't… god knows after that apple pie… or. Whatever. Oh_ god_…!" Kurt rubs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath before he can brave looking at the man in front of him.

He finds him leaning over the counter, hand coming to cup the back of Kurt's neck, but not pulling him closer as he just locks eyes with Kurt, waiting for a few seconds before leaning a little bit closer, eyes falling to Kurt's lips and Kurt can't help mimicking the motion. His breath is gentle and warm on Kurt's lips, and the anticipation finally takes the best of Kurt who closes the distance. It's slow and tentative and so, so soft. Blaine's hand in Kurt's neck pulls him closer, and moves to thread his fingers to the nape of Kurt's hair, as another comes to cup his jaw, gently maneuvering Kurt's face so he can deepen the kiss. They part just as slowly as it began, Blaine going back for three more, soft, short kisses before he leans all the way back, the full distance of the counter between them once more.

"Oh, hum… I…" Blaine – it's impossible to keep calling him Anderson, after they've kissed – stutters and runs a fidgety hand through his hair, clearly trying to hold back a smile and looking thoroughly confused and dazed "I'll – I guess I'll go now."

"O-ok…"

"Huh, best… huh, best not to tell anyone about this…"

"Yeah, of course." Kurt agrees without really paying attention to his words, "I mean, who'd believe it anyway, right? Not me. I'd sooner believe that my Hogwarts letter has arrived and in any case I'm going to shut up now, so I can go and stick by head in the fridge."

Blaine is looking at him with bright eyes, biting his lip and keeping his grin somewhat contained and the sight of it makes Kurt relax enough to return the smile.

"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson, have a goodnight."

"You too." Blaine says softly before he finally starts to walk away.

He watches Blaine wave one last time collecting his stuff off the table, slowly and carefully.

"By the way," Blaine says as he opens the door, "It's just that I'm allergic to blueberries. I wasn't doubting your pie expertise." He smiles and steps out, letting the door close gently behind him.

"Oh my god." Kurt gasps as soon as Blaine has stepped outside of the diner, letting himself drop onto the counter and not even caring that his face his smutched up against it – germs be damned. Getting his head around meeting Blaine Anderson would've been hard, but getting his head around the fact that he kissed Kurt… that will certainly turn out to be impossible.

Suddenly Blaine's last year hit comes back to him. He doesn't remember the words exactly (a lot of puns about dogs, stroking and howling), but he remembers the scandal. A gay man singing purely about sex, so open and explicitly, had been the talk of anything media for at least the three months after its release. Kurt remembers, the interviews after that, he remembers watching them on repeat because for once the media had someone worthy standing up to them, someone gay and unapologetically so. Someone brave enough to say that if rappers could get to sing about candy shops and whatnot, if The Chordettes got to sing about lollipops, then why on earth shouldn't he get to sing a fun song about sex, "because at the end of the day that's all it is for me, just a fun song that happens to be about sex"? Kurt remembers watching those interviews and thinking, _how lucky are the kids growing up now, that they get to have this role model in their lives?_

But most of all, all he can think about is that the same man that wrote and sang that song has just kissed _Kurt_.

He laughs, quiet first and hysterical then. He's still laughing when Rachel comes stumbling inside "I'm sorry I'm late, Kurt, I swear it's not my fault. Santana broke my alarm clock when she borrowed it after she broke hers."

"Not a problem." he assures her.

"You ok? You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine." Kurt shrugs "Would you mind terribly if I went home… it's been a slow night, anyway…"

"No, go ahead. You've been alone for an hour anyway, I think I can handle myself too."

He smiles and thanks her but wastes no time on getting himself back home, pulling the loft curtains for his room around himself, and staring at his ceiling for a good half an hour before he gives into the urge to grab his laptop and pathetically type 'Blaine Anderson' on the search bar.

There are articles, loads of them speculating about his relationship status and break-up rumors, but he skips over all of those (the last thing he wants to think about is his public relationship to that boy band front man, Sebastian Smythe), and goes straight for the YouTube playlists.

Eventually, the playlist starts playing only ballads and he finds himself lulled into sleep, where he dreams of endless musical kisses.

The next day he wakes up to Santana berating him for not waking her up. He reminds her, as usual, that he is not her father and that she needs to stop breaking every alarm clock in the house, and goes to have breakfast. The normalcy of that morning is so stark against the surreal previous night that it only makes Kurt even more confused and he spends his free time of those few next days being particularly silly and watching the Princess Diaries, Prince and Me, and Chasing Liberty.

To add to the mix, Tina and Mercedes come over and in the middle of it all they somehow en up watching one of Blaine's first films, and Kurt can barely hold himself together as Tina sighs "Can you imagine? Getting to kiss him?"

"Girl, the boy's gay." Mercedes frowns, amused.

"I know, but it's not like we stand a chance either way, is it? If I have to worship from afar, it doesn't matter if he's gay or not."

He wants to say – I didn't have to worship for afar – I worshipped him really, really up close and personal. I worshipped his lips with mine and it was majestic. But he doesn't.

It takes him three days before he manages to stop thinking about it at every waking moment. It is at this time, precisely when he thinks he might be getting his sanity back, that Rachel makes him aware of how much he once hated her.

"Oh!" Rachel gasps as she unties her apron, getting ready to head out "I almost forgot, a package came for you the other day. It's in the break room."

"The other _day_?" Kurt frowns, already putting down the empty coffee cups and going towards the door.

"I forgot! I've been so busy with rehearsals and NYADA and the diner…!" She says as she follows him inside and starts zipping down her uniform. He doesn't push the subject, not in the mood for Rachel's self-pity, and also because he still doesn't particularly like standing there and talking to her while she undresses and dresses.

Instead he grabs for the paper brown package that might be his. It has writing on it: Kurt, Eternally grateful! B.A. and then there's something else underneath but there's a grease stain over it and he can't read it very well – it might be a number. Oh my god. It might be a number. It might be Blaine Anderson's number.

"Rachel! Why is there a grease stain on my package?" he asks, trying not to raise his voice too much.

"I don't know. Because this is a diner and there are grease stains everywhere?" she shrugs.

"Dammit, Rachel, why did you forget about this?!" he sighs, exasperated, and he rips the package open and holds up the paper against the light. It's slightly more discernable now.

"Why are you so upset?" She asks as she brushes her hair and moves to look at the paper too "Oh. Oh! Is that a number? Is that a boy's number?"

"Possibly." He whispers, as menacing as possible.

"Oh no!" she pouts and lets her head fall gently against his shoulder.

"You have no idea." He gets out through gritted teeth.

After meticulous observation and close inspection he comes to ten possible phone numbers.

Back at the loft he talks himself out of and into calling them at least five times before Santana snatches away his cell phone and dials the first number on his List of Possibilities. He watches horrified and paralyzed but it turns out to be an old lady who then wastes half an hour of Santana's time telling her about the granddaughter that never calls, and Santana drops the phone afterwards saying, "This is dumb."

Kurt is slightly hyperventilating but for some reason he does pick the phone up and dials the second option. It's not Blaine. It's some girl who's kind of rude about the whole thing, but Kurt pushes through, until on the third ring of the sixth number, there is a voice that is unmistakably male and… well, Blaine.

"_Hello?_"

"Hi?" he cringes.

"Hi…?" Blaine chuckles back "Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Oh, huh, right. This is Kurt. Kurt Hummel! From the diner, Spotlight diner. I spilled coffee on you, you took my clothes…"

"Oh, hi! Kurt! I thought I wouldn't get to hear back from you." Blaine says, his voice suddenly much friendlier "I guess you were just playing hard to get, then."

"Oh! Oh, no! Not at all! It's just that you left your package with my idiot coworkers and they're not the most reliable people. And then there was a grease stain over your number and I had to call half of Manhattan before I got the right number… I'm sorry, I would've called sooner."

"That makes me feel slightly better." Blaine chuckles on the other end, "I was wondering, though, maybe you could meet me for a cup of coffee?"

"Oh." Kurt's heart stops altogether and he swallows dry "I, huh, yes, I suppose I could do that…?"

"What time is it?" Blaine asks, apparently rhetorically because he barely pauses before saying "So, ok, maybe five-ish o'clock? Would that work for you?"

"Yeah, absolutely! Absolutely!" he nods to no one in particularly and the remembers to ask, "Where?"

"Alright, huh, I'm going to be doing some press over at the Ritz this afternoon. Come over, and we'll see if we stay here or go somewhere else… when you get here, ask for Mr. Frodo in room 21." Blaine tells him and Kurt doesn't even have time to find it weird, "So, I'll see you soon. Bye."

"Bye." Kurt breathes, just as the line cuts and he's left sitting on the dining room table, completely awestruck and barely conscious of what to think. Santana walks by and looks at him, half concerned, half…. Something.

"You managed to find the right one?"

"Yes." Kurt mumbles.

"Congrats. You getting some?"

"Coffee."

"Ok. Less congrats. But still." She pats him on the head, like she sometimes does, just to be obnoxious, and then leaves towards her room.

It's a testament to how crazy the whole thing is that he doesn't even remember to freak out over what to wear until half an hour later. Entirely conscious of the whole 'don't look like you're trying to hard' he keeps it fairly simple. He's sprinting down the stairs when his cell rings and he looks to see it's Mercedes. "Hey," he breathes as he picks it up "What's up?"

"_Just reminding you that tomorrow is Sam's birthday party_."

"I know, and I'm coming. Don't worry, we even arranged for the perfect present and all."

"_Oh! A first edition copy of Captain America?_"

"No, a lifelong supply of chapstick, actually. It was Santana's idea." He says as he picks up his coat, "Anyway, I'm sure your boyfriend will have a great birthday, and I'm absolutely thrilled that the whole gang is getting together for it, in New York, of all places but I gotta go, sweetie."

"Wait, wait, I was calling because I was wondering if you could bake the cake…?"

"Sure. Of course. His favorite is still the one with strawberries and cream, right?"

"_Right. See you tomorrow then_."

"See you!" he smiles just as he clicks the door closed behind him, not even bothering to let the girls know he's going out.

Before going over to the hotel he stops to get them coffee – knowing of course that hotels serve coffee but feeling bad about showing up empty-handed. As he steps into the Ritz he can't help gaping at it, and he wonders what it is about his life that has suddenly become so absurd and weird. He steps into the front desk and asks for Mr. Frodo in room 21, a woman with a clipboard to her chest, walking with another man, overhears him and says at once "Oh, dear, come with me."

He tries not to let his confusion show too much before he follows them into the elevator. They head out of it and toward the farthest door on the corridor, which is definitely not room 21. He's way too confused to hide it now, but he doesn't speak as the woman opens the door and ushers them both inside. The room is packed with people with notebooks and coffees balanced on knees. She gestures towards a desk where a man with another clipboard says "Sorry, we're running a little late, but we'll get to you soon. You're from?"

"Time out magazine…" the other man says, and Kurt blanches as he understand that Blaine is doing press work right now, and he's been mistaken for a journalist.

"And you?"

He feels both set of eyes landing on him, and the heat and pressure, for some obscure reason, makes him spit out "The Fab Closet."

"What?"

"It's huh… it's a new magazine… very gay. Huh… I mean… huh." he tries not to let his panic show too much. The truth is that there is no such magazine, but there is such a blog somewhere in the depths of the Internet.

"Alright then, great. We'll call you as soon as possible."

"Right, huh, my name's Kurt Hummel… Mr. Anderson might be expecting me…?"

"Like, I said, we'll call you as soon as possible."

He blushes and doesn't say anything else, allowing himself to be lead to a free seat.

"Two cups of coffee?" The girl sitting next to him grins clearly amused and not in the kind way, "You brought him coffee?"

"Oh no… huh, it's a… it's for a colleague of mine. He's just running a little late and asked me to get one for him."

"That's nice of you."

"Yeah…" Kurt nods.

"You look kind of young…"

"I'm an intern." He clenches his jaw, wishing she would stop asking questions.

"Wow, aren't you lucky. When I was an intern I never got to interview the good ones. I'm with Vogue." Of course, of course she is. Good thing that wasn't the first thing out of his mouth then.

He nods tersely and goes back to staring at his hands holding the coffee cups.

It's ten minutes before the woman with the clipboard tells him to follow her.

The door opens and he's met with Blaine sitting on a lovely couch, sipping a cup of tea. The moment Blaine's eyes land on Kurt he immediately springs to his feet, but before either can say anything the woman clears her throat "Mr. Hummel is from The Fab Closet."

Kurt feels his chest tighten and his face flush with humiliation at Blaine's suddenly quirked eyebrow.

"Is he, now?"

Kurt winces and does some weird gesture between a nod and a shake of his head – it ends up looking like he just has a kink in his neck.

"You have five minutes to talk about Mr. Anderson's most recent project, Mr. Hummel." the woman informs him, before closing the door.

"Oh my god." He breathes as soon as it clicks closed and they're alone.

Blaine's chuckles pull him out oh his horror "The Fab Closet?"

"It was my stupid fashion blog when I was fourteen, I… just, I blanked…"

Blaine grins and walks back over to his couch "It's fine, really, it's my fault. I thought this would be over by now. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Here, I, huh, I brought you this… though, obviously it's not needed. And it might be a little cold now."

"Oh! Oh, no! That's very nice, really! I prefer coffee to tea anytime, so, really, thank you." He beams, taking the cup of coffee and sipping it.

"No problem…" he says, mainly because a weird silence was settling over them.

"Anyway, I just… I wanted… I just wanted to make sure… things were ok… and… apologize for the whole… kissing you thing. I'm not really sure what came over me, to be honest."

Kurt's can physically feel his heart stop and his stomach drop two storeys. It's silly, really. What had he been expecting? A love declaration? A bouquet of red roses and an invitation for dinner?

"Oh, everything's fine, don't worry about it. It's not like I'm going to sue you for kissing me, right?" Kurt laughs awkwardly, "I mean… lucky me, right?" he adds, automatically cringing inwardly.

Blaine seems a little taken aback, his own eyebrows shooting up and his lips forming a tentative smile "Huh, lucky both of us." He says, his smile polite, if a little cheeky.

Kurt hangs his head and breathes, figuring he might as well be honest "This all just feels so surreal, I don't even know what to think, to tell you the truth."

"Oh?"

"I mean… I got kissed by Blaine Anderson… that's… the kind of things movies are made of, right? How does a person wrap their heads around something like this, you know?" Blaine gives him a sort of a tight smile, and Kurt just shrugs and continues with a laugh, "Maybe I could just write a movie about it, and turn it into some romantic comedy where I can then write myself saying and doing the things I would never be able to. It would be a musical, of course. I could use your songs for the soundtrack – it seems fitting. I'd write, direct and star in it, I'd make millions off of it, I'd become famous and then maybe this whole thing wouldn't be so surreal after all. So really, thanks for the opportunity of a lifetime." He pauses, noticing that Blaine is looking at him like he's a puzzle with a missing piece "Of course than you'd sue me or something…"

"Or I could star in it too." Blaine counters, giving him a one-shouldered shrug and taking another sip from his coffee.

"Or that, yeah…" Kurt blushes slightly, "But you'd still have to audition, though. Don't go thinking I'm gonna give you a part just cuz you made a pass at me and you're good kisser."

Blaine does laugh at that, "Of course. I wouldn't dream of it." he smiles, "And, huh, just so I can be prepared, then, what kind of things would you write yourself saying or doing in that movie, then?" Blaine doesn't look like he's freaked out or anything; on the contrary, he looks comfortable, if not teasing and interested.

"Well, creative writing is a long process you know. I'm not sure." Kurt says slowly, buying himself the time and courage to say what he really wants to say, "But, just off the top of my head, just a crazy idea, just to put it out there… I suppose I could, huh, I would kiss you… right now."

"Right now?" Blaine lifts his eyebrow, but grins, eyes alight with something that makes Kurt feel a little high.

"Right now." Kurt nods, throat suddenly dry.

"I'd watch that movie…" Blaine murmurs, putting down his coffee.

Kurt's pretty sure Blaine has just given him a green light for going over and kissing him – again – but Kurt can't seem to manage anything past an indecisive shuffle on his chair, and then the door opens and the woman steps inside, tells him he has two more minutes, and stays there, shuffling papers.

He's completely blindsided "Right! Of course!" he says, turning back to Blaine "Mr. Anderson-"

"Blaine." He interrupts with one of his charming, polite smiles.

"Blaine," he sighs, hoping it doesn't sound nearly as breathy and pathetic as it felt "Did you… huh… always… want to… huh… do a… project like this?" Is it a movie, or a new album, or play, or…?!

Blaine seems to be holding back some laughter as he ducks his head and then exhales "Yes, yes, I've always wanted to be in a film where I could… honor the amazing teachers that have crossed my path and helped me become the person I am today. I'm especially lucky to be working with some of the people I looked up to when I was younger, too. So really, I'm just so thankful for it."

"Oh, right, right." Kurt nods, feeling bit better "And who would you say your favorite teacher was?"

The door opens and closes and Kurt turns to see the woman has disappeared again and he sighs in a breath of relief. Blaine laughs, "Nice save…"

Kurt snorts "Yeah, right."

"I, huh, I'm sorry you got caught up in this… I… is there any way you'd consider waiting for it to be finished?"

"I'm not sure I can… I have a shift in a while, and… but…" Kurt takes a deep breath and steels himself "maybe you could meet me afterwards? For a late dinner?"

Blaine is smiling, which makes it completely confusing when he says, "I can't."

"Oh." Kurt nods, feeling the cold sweat of rejection covering him, and looking at his hands as he starts to get up. Blaine stands at once and steps around the coffee table.

"But I can cancel my plans for tomorrow…?" Kurt looks up to find Blaine startlingly closer "I can tell them I want to hang out with this waiter from the Spotlight diner …"

The whole conversation is making Kurt feel like he's on a rollercoaster with a record-breaking number of loops and dips. He feels himself breathe out a nervous chuckle, looking back down "They'd think you've gone crazy." He smiles, looking up at Blaine's smiling face "whoever they are."

He shrugs, "So, tomorrow?"

"I… huh, does anyone ever say no to these things?" Kurt sighs, not even trying to hold back how the whole thing makes him feel.

Blaine laughs and ducks his head, for a moment there looking almost as young and as nervous as Kurt, "You can. If you don't want to, you can say no. I hope you don't, though."

"Yes! Of course!" Kurt says and then his cell vibrates in his pocket and he remembers Mercedes and Sam's birthday party "Oh! No! I… I have a thing tomorrow… a birthday party, and my friends would kill me if I didn't go, it's the fist time we'll all be together since graduation – a lot of them are coming up to visit…"

"That's ok." Blaine smiles.

"I can't believe it… I can try to get out of it, but-"

"Kurt, it's ok, really. I can go. If you don't mind that is. I could go as your date. Right?"

Kurt stops in his tracks. Images of him stepping inside Mercedes' apartment with Blaine on his arm, everyone gaping at him… finally not being the only one alone and watching on the sidelines… "Really? You'd want that?"

"Parties are fun." He shrugs like that explains everything "I'll pick you up, shall I?" Kurt can only nod, "What time?"

"Eight."

"It's a date. Text me your address later." Blaine smiles, just as the woman opens the door and sticks her head in "Time's up."

"Right. Huh, thanks again." Kurt squeaks out, hoping his cheeks are not blushing too hard.

"No, thank _you_. I hope you found the interview to your liking." He says with a wink.

Kurt wants to laugh at that, feeling like this can't actually be his life, feeling he might just be on the Twilight Zone, "Yes, yes, I… I'm thrilled about it."

"Right then," The woman interrupts "Shall we?"

"Of course, goodbye."

"It was very nice to meet you, Kurt." Blaine says shaking his hand and letting it linger once more.

Kurt manages one look over his shoulder before the woman closes the door and says "Right, I'll just rush you through the others, shall I?"

"What?"

Fuck.


	2. Part 2 of 4

**Step 2: get emotionally attached and play dumb when your brain tries to tell you it's not going to work because you both live in different worlds – aka, the yolo step**

"Hi!" Kurt opens the door a little breathless.

"Hi!" Blaine smiles, "You look great."

"Thanks…" Kurt tries to go for nonchalance, "I do write for The Fab Closet." He says, which makes Blaine laugh, "Come on in!" he grabs his hand, without allowing himself to think too much about it, and pulls him towards the kitchen, "Welcome to our humble abode – Rachel and Santana left to get some wine…"

Blaine is wearing fitted dark wash jeans and a beautiful dark grey jacket over a maroon cardigan and black and beige striped shirt, his brown leather belt matches his boots perfectly; Kurt always thought Blaine's style was good but a little too preppy and yet, face to face with it, he might just start gushing. He keeps himself in check, though. Somehow. But it certainly compliments Kurt's slim fit jeans, and his muted, olive green shirt and his jade neckerchief.

"This is so cool!" Blaine grins, looking around himself.

"You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying!" he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, "Is that vintage?"

"Oh, the flee market holds many a spectacular bargain, if you just know where and how to look."

Blaine gives him a smile "I haven't been to one since… Heck, I can't remember the last time." He says, taking a seat on the mentioned vintage armchair, "Maybe I've kept myself too busy these last few years."

"The world thanks you for your hard work, though." Kurt jokes, "Do you want something to drink, or eat?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine." Blaine shakes his head and follows Kurt's movements as he seats opposite him, on the couch, "I feel like there's an imbalance about us."

"Oh?"

"Well, you know most of what there is to know about me, and all I know about you is that you're a waiter. And funny… and cute… and witty… and a little prone to hilarious word vomiting… ha, look at that, I do know stuff about you." Blaine says, half-musing "But I'd like to know a little more?" he prompts with the kind of smile that makes Kurt's heart start speeding through his chest just so it can try to get to Blaine and punch him on his stupid gorgeous nose and tell him to stop being so damn attractive (it can't be healthy, can it?).

"Oh, huh… like what?"

"Like, do you do something other than work at the diner?"

"God, yes!" Kurt gasps, "I go to school." He smiles, and Blaine's face becomes a sort of panicked frown, "NYADA." He clarifies.

"Oh, thank god… when you said school I got hot flashes, just thinking you were a high schooler."

"Oh! No." Kurt shakes his head while his heart stops, "Do I look like one?!"

"No, not at all… I just… paranoia, I guess."

"I'm nineteen." Kurt clarifies, though he can't help feel a little nervous because he knows that at twenty-three years old Blaine is fairly older than him and is probably used to dating men his age.

"Hum." Blaine hums, but it doesn't look either bad, or good.

"So you're definitely not a pedophile for kissing me the other day."

Blaine's face breaks out into a smile and he chuckles, "No, I suppose not, thank goodness for that." He chuckles again and then clears his throat and, still smiling and eyes still twinkling with amusement he says, "So NYADA, tell me about that, I considered it before I got the record deal and everything went crazy."

Kurt is about to when the front door to the loft opens and Santana and Rachel loudly make their presence known "We have the booze, we are ready!" Rachel announces, at the same time as Santana asks, "Has your piece of gross boy ass arrived, Kurt?"

Kurt is about ready to kill Santana when the two of them step around the dining table and onto the living area and gape at the man sitting in the vintage armchair.

"That's Blaine Anderson." Rachel gasps in what could very well be a stage whisper.

"Why is Blaine Anderson in our living room?"

"You didn't tell them?" Blaine turns to Kurt, looking slightly intimidated.

"I didn't know how."

"That's what B.A. stands for?" Rachel gasps, "Oh my god! You received a package from Blaine Anderson. You got Blaine Anderson's number! Blaine Anderson is in my living room!"

"Hummel's date to the party is Blaine Anderson." Santana whispers. She walks slowly and shakily towards the couch, sits down and takes her hands to her head, clearly not sure if she believes anything anymore.

Kurt glances over at Blaine who looks only mildly uncomfortable, behind a very convincing mask of polite amusement.

It takes a while for either of them to calm down enough so they can head out the door. Blaine had agreed to give all three of them a ride and not just Kurt, so he can't actually escape the fact that his friends are gushing over Blaine's car. He always thought that the two of them would've been able to hold it together while meeting a celebrity (in hindsight, though, why?! Why would_ ever _think that, Kurt?! Santana… maybe, but _Rachel_? She has crazy stalker written all over. All. Over.), but apparently they're even worse than him. Kurt takes the passenger seat and sends an apologetically look towards Blaine, who laughs and shakes his head.

Rachel, to no one's surprise _ever_, becomes a complete conversation hogger and interrogator upon meeting celebrities and Blaine barely gets enough time to answer her questions (yes, I've heard of and seen Funny Girl; yes, I like Broadway; no, I don't have a NY apartment, I stay at a hotel; no, this isn't my car, it's a rental; Yes,I really am in the talks to be in the new Iron Man movie; …), let alone anyone else have the chance to say anything.

By the time they park barely a block away from Mercedes and Sam's apartment Kurt is about ready to murder Rachel, and has every intention of keeping her away from Blaine at all costs including, if necessary, a teen foot pole.

He is also in a slight panic.

If their reaction is anything to go by, he's suddenly pretty sure he should've never agreed to bring Blaine to this party. But it's not like he can just turn back on his decision now ("Oh never mind, Blaine, let's just go to the movies because my friends are the worst and I don't want you to ever be subjected to their special brand of crazy!").

He braves through the flight of stairs, ringing the doorbell, and the door swinging open. "Heeey!" Sam beams "You're here! Oh, is that my cake?! Awesome!"

"Happy Birthday!" Kurt says, half nervous, expecting squeals and gasps at any moment, but Sam just takes the cake with a smile and says, "Come on in, guys!"

Kurt exchanges a confused glance with Rachel, before looking at Blaine who's smiling pleasantly as he takes in the small, but tasteful apartment.

"Mercedes is still getting ready, glammin' it up, and you're the first ones here, but you can totally eat stuff if you want. I don't think it's rude." Sam explains, gracious host as he is.

Kurt closes his eyes and tries not to regret this yet again, "Thanks, Sam."

Sam grins and then turns towards Blaine, "You must be Kurt's date. It's nice to meet you, dude. I'm Sam."

Blaine gives him one of those Photoshop patented smiles and offers his hand, "Likewise. Happy Birthday, Sam. I'm Blaine." They shake hands, "And I'm sorry for invading your party like this, but it was a logistics decision." He adds.

"Oh, no, that's fine! The more the merrier, right?!"

"Right, definitely! And I guess I haven't been to a proper party in a while, anyway."

Behind the two men, Kurt and the girls are exchanging all sorts of confused expression and mouthing 'what the fuck?'.

"Trouty!" Santana interrupts, still frowning slightly, "Birthdays presents, now or later?" she asks, readjusting her grip on the big box. While Sam immediately gestures for the box Blaine turns to Kurt, tilting his head to the side and mouthing 'Trouty?'

Kurt just shrugs, still a little overwhelmed to deal with explaining Santana's nicknames. Meanwhile, Sam opens the box and is clearly torn between being offended and amused. Finally, he picks up a tube of chap stick and throws it towards Santana. "Hey!" She ducks, "It's from the three of us!"

"And it'll save you a lot of money, Sam." Rachel says calmly, like it's actually a very sensible and rational birthday present. Of course she would…

Blaine peeks inside the box and chuckles, "That's a lifetime supply you have there."

"Exactly." Santana says; nodding in that condescending way that only Santana ever truly manages.

"Whatever, I'm gonna go make drinks that you're not allowed to enjoy."

"But can we still drink them as long as we don't enjoy them?" Santana calls after him to not much avail but some snickers.

A door clicks open and Mercedes steps out, hugs the girls and Kurt excitedly. Kurt extricates himself from her embrace to say, "Cedes, this is Blaine, Blaine this is Mercedes."

Blaine offers a hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too, Blaine." She replies joyfully before freezing altogether and swallowing dry, "Anderson. Blaine Anderson. Nice to meet you."

He smiles and the effort not to faint, or scream or simply freak out is visible on every inch of her body.

It's not long before the rest of the glee club starts arriving and proving Kurt's theory that they would be of more use and success as caged animals in a zoo exhibit. Puck eyes Blaine up and down, considers him and then says, like it's the most natural thing in the world, "You know, dude, gay sex is not really my thing, but that song was legit. Everybody loves a good doggy style."

Blaine does a fantastic job of avoiding spitting out a mouthful of beer before he coughs out, "Oh, huh, thanks."

"How did it go, again?" Puck frowns, closing his eyes and turning words in his tongue, "Birds and bees, bir-"

"They told us about the birds and the bees,/ but they always forget to mention,/ it's doggy style that makes you week at the knees." Blaine mumbles, before taking another long sip of his drink.

"Oh, yeah! That's exactly how it goes."

_It was easier when I didn't remember the lyrics_…, Kurt thinks.

"That was a cool song, dude."

"That was a song I wrote when I was plastered drunk, and that somehow I was talked into putting on the album. Because, trust me, I love sex as much as the next guy, and I do stand by the fact I should be allowed to sing about it, but it was never in my agenda to actually show it to anyone…" Blaine shrugs, "Despite how catchy it is."

"Oh, naw, dude, you got nothin' to worry about, it's dope." Puck declares before slapping Blaine on the shoulder and walking away.

Kurt closes his eyes and whimpers. There's just no excuse.

Tina, on the other hand, practically sobs as she shakes his hand (and Kurt's pretty sure she's mentally vowing to never wash it again – _gross_) and announces that they should be best friends, to which Blaine smiles and says, "I'm sure it would be a tremendous honor.", making Kurt wonder how exactly does someone become this charming?

Artie is the most levelheaded of them all, somehow, and yet also the one who profits the most. Mentioning that he's seen a couple of Blaine's films and that he has good acting skills, Artie jokes about one day calling him in for a cameo in one of his short student films. A remark to which Blaine nods and says "If I'm in town and you need it give me a call and we'll see if I'm not too busy." And then proceeds to give Artie his contact card, "It's not my personal number, but my assistant does run every call by me, so I won't just ignore it."

After a while Kurt gives up altogether and, for sanity's sake, drags them both to a corner where they can sit and talk quietly among themselves, he knows they'll occasionally be interrupted by the newest arrival coming to introduce themselves and make sure Blaine knows how big a fan they are, but they'll be mostly alone.

After just five minutes Kurt's amazed at how easy he falls into conversation with Blaine – once he manages to get over the stupidifying fact that Blaine is who he is, it's just two kids that made it out of Ohio sharing life experiences and making each other laugh.

It's still fairly early, and Kurt's telling Blaine all about NYADA as previously promised, when Sam approaches them with shot glasses. They accept them reluctantly and down them after toasting.

"So Blaine! What do you do?" Sam asks conversationally, leaning against the wall.

Blaine seems taken aback for only a split second before he smiles and says "Singer, songwriter, sometimes actor. Bit of a mercenary, I suppose. As long as it involves performing."

"Oh that's cool. Mercedes is gonna be a star pretty damn soon, she's got a record deal and she'll go on tour as soon as it's recorded, maybe she could help you out. Give you some tips."

Kurt wants to disappear as he gapes at Sam, but Blaine's smile doesn't even falter – if anything it grows bigger, the jerk – as he tilts his head "Oh, I have a record deal too, it's fine. It's my third album, actually – it's due in four months."

"Oh! So you got two albums out already?" Sam gasps, "That's so cool, man. I knew you looked a bit familiar, did you get some publicity for those?"

"Yeah, some." Blaine nods, concealing a chuckle with a cough.

"Sam." Kurt interrupts, voice tight, "Can you get me another shot, please?"

"I gue-oh! OH! I'm totally interrupting, right?! Shit, man, sorry, I'll let you two eye each other up and get your flirt on. Bye." He winks before slapping Kurt's shoulder and jogging over to Mercedes who's been surveying them carefully.

When Kurt turns back to Blaine he finds him ducking his head and concealing his laughter with a hand. God, he looks gorgeous. Humph.

"I don't even know what to say." Kurt breathes.

Blaine just laughs, openly now, and shrugs "It's fine. What is it they always say in the movies? Breath of fresh air, right?"

Kurt gives him a look and opens his mouth to reply when Sam's voice, from the other side of the room, interrupts them, "He's what?!" Sam's looking over his shoulder towards Blaine, his face suddenly a little red.

"Ah, look at that!" Kurt sighs, "Someone finally broke the news to him."

Of course the Sam-doesn't-know fiasco doesn't even compare to the Brittany-doesn't-know-and-doesn't-care fiasco, in which she goes on to tell Blaine that Kurt is her favorite unicorn but that he shows potential as well, followed closely by her scientifically researched idea that dolphins are really just gay sharks.

It isn't until Kurt has to use the restroom and comes back to find Blaine surrounded by Sam, Britt, Puck and Santana that – after a small heart attack – he notices that the man is actually enjoying himself, laughing and smiling as he nods and answers questions between sips. With a deep breath, relaxing considerably, Kurt joins them. After all, why love your friends if you're going to be ashamed of them? No, Kurt definitely knows better than that. He loves these freaks and he'll defend them to the grave – anyone who doesn't at the very least respect them would never be worth Kurt's time. He does not need to shield Blaine from his friends or try to make them look "normal" – normal is boring, anyway. Let Blaine appreciate the brilliancy of Show choir National Championship winners, the New Directions.

And if staying there in this circle of people means that Blaine's hand gets to brush his too many times to be accidental, he's certainly not complaining.

It's Puck who finally gets around to turning up the music, despite Mercedes' protests, so that it is actually loud enough to dance to. Of course at some point someone is oh so funny and puts on one of Blaine's songs, and to everyone's surprise the man blushes and buries himself in the couch, hiding his face with a pillow. Kurt files it away as the first time Blaine's given in to awkwardness instead of maintaining his infuriating suaveness, and it's a nice change for once, not to be the only one. Also, it feels special – it feels like maybe not everybody gets to witness that.

Kurt laughs as he sits next to Blaine, patting his knee gently for a couple moments. After a while Blaine moves the pillow enough to peek a glance at Kurt, and his eyes are _smiling_. Sticking his tongue out, Kurt pries the pillow away. Blaine just lets him and stays there, half sitting, half laying down, and looks at him with the most endearing self-conscious smile, biting his own lip; he looks the perfect mixture between adorable and sexy with the flush of alcohol to his cheeks.

Kurt shakes his head as he chuckles and puts the pillow down, but before Kurt can think of something remotely witty to say, Blaine surges forward and presses their lips together. It's not like the kiss in the diner, this one's harder and hotter. Blaine's hands come up to Kurt's hair, fingers carding through and making him sigh, deepening the kiss. In a distant reality there are people wolf whistling and cat calling, but Kurt could pay no more attention to it than he could at an ant making its way home in Central Park. Blaine is kissing him _again_.

Kurt, as the perfectly rational person that he is, kisses back, giving as good as he's getting, loving the way that Blaine's bicep feels beneath his grip.

By the time they resurface for breath, Kurt's gasping for air and Blaine's burying his head in Kurt's neck and laughing heartily and pressing an open but hasty kiss there. "Let's dance!" he announces, getting to his feet in one swift motion and pulling Kurt up with him.

They alternate between dancing just the two of them, inappropriately close and all too handsy, and joining the small groups around them giggling and singing along with songs, alcohol making sure that they never feel as silly as they actually look. Every once in a while one of them will disappear and come back with two drinks in hand, or a piece of birthday cake (which more often than not ends up mushed against their noses and cheeks).

It's well into the night when Blaine seems to remember he's got a car to drive and announces that Kurt's not allowed to give him any more drinks, to which Kurt replies with another heady kiss, pulling him close and making Blaine groan and squeeze his waist, "I'm not sure that's going to help much either." He smiles as they pull apart and Kurt's definitely had too much to drink if his first instinct to that is to dive back in for Blaine's lips, not a blush in sight – but Blaine doesn't complain (smart boy).

Dawn is breaking by the time that most of everyone's left, or crashed on any kind of soft surface to sleep, and Blaine announces he feels sober enough to drive, in case they want to head back to the loft. Kurt almost wants to say no, but Rachel all but launches herself at Blaine, in a hug, and lets everyone in a ten-mile radius know just how ready she is to go home. Blaine smiles soothingly and nods at once.

Rachel and Santana fall asleep the moment the car door is closed behind them, and Kurt would too if he wasn't so fucking aware of Blaine driving right next to him. God… Blaine. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine.

If it took three days to somewhat get over the night in the diner. Kurt is pretty sure it'll take him at least two months to wrap his head around tonight.

He lets his head fall against the headrest and sighs, "So, tonight happened."

Blaine glances at him before he nods "Yes. Yes, it did."

"Wow." He breathes and can't help blushing when Blaine looks at him, clearly amused with a questioning look, "You know, maybe it's the alcohol talking – it's always made me say some pretty embarrassing things – but I think it's a lost battle trying not to say idiotic things in front of you, so I've decided to just say everything I want to and hope for the best."

Blaine grins at that, "I approve of that decision."

"Thank you, that means a lot to me." Kurt says, seriously, making Blaine snort – not very gracefully too.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

Kurt's a little taken aback by it, and spends a good half a minute just staring at Blaine before he clears his throat and shrugs "I'm pretty sure there are no laws against it."

He watches carefully as the smile spreads across Blaine's face and he turns to glance at Kurt before turning back to the road and saying "Come by the hotel… you still know the room number?"

"Yes, Mr. Frodo." Kurt nods.

"You're the New Yorker, you can take me out for dinner, yes?"

"Yeah." He manages, a little breathless.

"Great." Blaine smiles.

"Weeee…!" Kurt does a half-hearted mini-celebration in his seat, before ducking to rest his head on the dashboard and giggle, ungraceful and uncensored, "So drunk…"

He receives a laugh in return, and then, a few moments later, "You're wonderful, you know that? And gorgeous, but mostly wonderful."

"Oh…" Kurt sits back up and puts a hand to his cheek to check just how hot they are, "I do now." He offers with an attempt at casual shrugging, and Blaine turns back towards the road grinning and chuckling.

"Good, you should."

They're silent the rest of the way because Kurt's not really sure there's anything he_ can_ say about this night. It's so overwhelming in the best way possible.

When Blaine pulls up outside their building Kurt has the unfortunate mission of waking the girls up. It's a hard task, but he manages and sends them off, clinging to each other, towards the front door.

He turns back to find Blaine watching them, arms crossed on top of the car and chin propped on them as he waits by the driver's open door. "See you tomorrow, then?" Blaine asks, his smile so very tender.

"Definitely." Kurt mutters watching with rapt attention as Blaine pushes himself way from the car, walks around it and approaches. A gentle finger under Kurt's chin is all the warning he gets before Blaine's lips are on his, soft and unassuming.

"Sleep well, Kurt."

"You, huh, you too."

Blaine gives him one last heart-stopping smile before he walks backwards towards the car. He's ducking to get back inside when Kurt's mouth move of its own accord "You're not that short."

Blaine freezes and looks up "What?"

"You're not that short – you're not hobbit-short. All those jokes… I always thought you were much shorter, but you're not."

Blaine grins at once and lets out a loud bark of laughter, "Thank you!"

"Anytime." Kurt nods, putting cool hands to his hot cheeks as he takes a deep breath and turns to walk inside.

"It's so adorable." Santana drawls the minute the door's closed behind him "He actually likes it that you're such a dork."

Kurt gives her a long look before saying "Get back to me when Megan Fox throws herself at you, and you'll see who's dorky."

"Mmm, I'm more into blondes." She teases back, and Kurt can only shake his head and go inside.

That night he's not quite sure how he manages to sleep, but he miraculously blacks out the moment his head hits the pillow and he doesn't wake up until it's lunchtime. He takes a rigorous shower – they don't have a bathtub, unfortunately – and then proceeds to spend two hours selecting a perfect casual-chic ensemble for his date with one of the biggest celebrities in the world. Sometimes he has to stop and jump around for a good five minutes to calm himself down. He tries to go about the rest of his day with as much normalcy as possible. He goes grocery shopping, he dusts his bedroom, and he starts on an essay due the next week. But as the clock ticks away he starts getting more and more ridiculously antsy.

He finally snaps, though, a little too early – he gets dressed, does his hair, grabs his wallet and keys and heads out. It's not until he's on the subway, halfway there, that he finally realizes he's just that _ridiculously_ early and decides to get out on the next station and walk the rest of the way. He passes a flower shop and with a blush he buys a nice, small bouquet of red and yellow roses. He knows it's not the fanciest or even the prettiest, but it's what he can afford and he hopes Blaine will at least appreciate the thought.

When he gets to the front entrance to the hotel he checks the time – six thirty –, decides it's not too pathetic and goes in. He doesn't know if he has to stop at the reception, but a lot of people are just passing through to the elevators and he does know the room number, so… He gets on an elevator and tries not to look too out of place – in all his life he has never been surrounded by so much money as these two times he's been at the Ritz. The elevator bell rings and he gets off on the right floor and calmly makes his way to the door numbered 21.

Three soft knocks.

"Just a moment!" A voice he doesn't quite recognize says, and before he can think about that the door is yanked open and a guy that is certainly not Blaine is standing there in a half opened shirt, loose tie and unbelted pants, barefoot and smiling "Are you room service?"

Kurt can't quite make words leave his mouth as his brain works miles a minute. Did he get the wrong room? He's about to assume so and say he has when Blaine stumbles out of a door, pristinely dressed in a maroon shirt and tightly fit dark jeans, leather belt and matching boots, and his face looks absolutely horrified as he mouths Kurt's name but doesn't say it. In a split second Kurt's heart drops to his feet as he takes in the whole room behind them, completely filled with the most intricate and, well, expensive looking arrangements of flowers, and suddenly Kurt does recognize the man holding the door open. Sebastian Smythe, Blaine's very public on-off again boyfriend and boy band sensation and god his hair really is that good in person and Kurt hates it.

"I… yeah… room service." He stutters out. Behind Sebastian, Blaine closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"Oh, good, took you guys long enough… so where's the food?"

"Oh, oh… no, I don't…"

"You're not wearing a uniform." Sebastian squints, "Are you sure you're not just some stalker trying-"

"I was… I was just heading out. Shift's over. But, uh, these just came in for, huh, Mr. Anderson and I thought I'd…"

"Oh, right, right." Sebastian's wide smile returns as he takes the flowers and turns back to the livid Blaine "Oh look, babe, someone had the same idea as me", he laughs, "Should I be worried about competition? These are _cute_." He says, his voice mocking as he puts the bouquet down carelessly and Kurt could really just throw up right now.

Blaine still hasn't said a word and is just standing there with his arms wrapped around himself looking like a deer caught in headlights, before he makes a feeble attempt at clearing his throat and says "Seb, could you…" he starts as he walks over to the table where Sebastian dropped the flowers and picks them up carefully, "Could you go put these in water, please?"

Sebastian gives him a weird look before shrugging and saying, "Sure thing." He kisses Blaine's cheeks and slaps his ass as he walks by him and Kurt can't help feeling the tiniest bit better with the way Blaine flinches with the gesture, tightening his hold on himself.

The moment that Sebastian disappears behind the door Blaine surges forward and starts whispering frantically "I didn't know he'd be here! I didn't! He just showed up and I thought, Kurt, I though we were… we just had… a fight – big fight – I wasn't-, and he_ just_ showed up, I swear I wasn't-"

"It's fine, Blaine. Really." Kurt says, surprising himself with how calm he does sound, "What was I expecting, really…?"

"Kurt…!" Blaine breathes stepping even closer, but Sebastian comes back with the flowers in a fucking toothbrush cup and Kurt has never felt so humiliated. He just wants to leave and never come back.

"I'll just go now."

"What about the food?" Sebastian asks absently as he tries to balance the cup with the flowers on the table without it tipping over.

"I, huh, I'm sure it'll be here any moment, sir."

"Hum…" he says, looking put out.

"Seb…" Blaine says, his tone appeasing and warning at the same time.

Sebastian sighs and roles his eyes before plastering on a smile "I'm sorry, man, I'm just a little tired. Long flight, you know? Thanks for the delivery, though. Here…" he takes out his wallet and pulls a ten out of it; Kurt can't even bring himself to move to deny it and the man just mindlessly tucks it into his breast pocket while Blaine covers his face with his hand, "Oh and while you're here, would you mind and take out the garbage? Thanks."

"No!" Blaine says at once, practically putting himself between the can and Kurt, "It's not his job-"

"Fine, it's fine." Kurt interrupts, voice small as he walks around Blaine, bends over and wraps the plastic bag into a knot before pulling it up and barely even saying over his shoulder "Have nice night."

He closes the door behind himself. He's almost back to the elevator when he hears footsteps running after him, he lets himself hope for a split second only to find Sebastian running after him with another bill in his hand, tucking it into the pocket like the one before and saying, almost condescendingly "Here you go. The mister over there gets mad at me when I'm not nice to the help, and I'm trying to get him to stop being mad, if you know what I mean." He winks.

Oh god, Kurt just wants to go back to the loft and cry.

xxx

After that night Kurt completely and totally isolates himself from anything Blaine Anderson related. No one really knows what happened. He told Santana and Rachel (because they were at the loft the moment he arrived feeling like he'd just been hit by a train and too emotionally raw to lie his way out of their questions), but everyone else just thinks Kurt and Blaine had fun while they could and went their separate ways – as would be assumed by everyone with half a brain. What was he thinking getting involved with someone that lives not only on the other side of the country, but also on a completely different world? What was he expecting?

Sometimes someone will comment on Blaine's career and whatnot, and he tries to block it out, but he still knows that Blaine's just been announced as one of the leads for the new Iron Man movie, that his album will involve several collaborations, including one with Sebastian Smythe (of course), he knows that he and Sebastian have publicly gotten back together… But at some point people do realize he's not particularly interested in talking or knowing about Blaine and, eventually, they just stop telling him stuff.

He doesn't know what it is about the whole thing that left him so upset. He's had plenty of dates that never went anywhere and he never felt the sort of stabbing pain to his chest anytime someone mentioned those guys. Only Blaine's name has the power to completely change his mood. He didn't know if he felt betrayed by Blaine or frustrated with himself.

What if he'd spoken up that night – what if he'd told Sebastian that he was there to pick Blaine up for a date? What if he'd told him the "cute" flowers were from a guy Blaine thought was wonderful and gorgeous? What if he'd told him Blaine had kissed him like no-one had ever kissed him before, and that he was sure Blaine couldn't have ever kissed anyone else like that either?

What if Blaine was looking to him for what he should do and all that Kurt did was put his tail between his legs and run away like a scared little puppy when faced with full grown, territorial Rottweiler?

But was it fair for Blaine to have treated him like that? To make him feel like he stood a chance when all the while he wasn't even officially broken up with his boyfriend. To give him the responsibility of a decision when he knew Kurt was the one completely out of his depth. To give him hope for something and then turn around and go back to someone else.

But for as often as he gets lost in these musings, just as easily he is berating himself for feeling so much for something so small. They had one date and the prospect of a second. They weren't even dating, seen as that implied plural dates. Was Kurt genuinely upset that Blaine chose his long-term relationship over their _one_ date? Was that fair to Blaine? They had never made any promises to each other. No commitments. Not even the suggestion of one. Just one date and a "Can I see you again?"

Kurt realizes that his feelings for Blaine, somehow, ran deeper than just that, but he can also admit it isn't fair to project that responsibility onto Blaine, and as time passes, little by little, he starts accepting what was a fun "Cinderella ball night" and not be bitter about the fact that the prince didn't come looking for him afterwards.

Life goes on. School goes on, work goes on. Blaine Anderson doesn't come back to the diner, but he does get to meet a couple of Broadway names and he even has the prospect of an audition in a few months' time if a producer he met does managed to get her project some initial financing. Life gets good-ish.

It isn't until Rachel tries to set him up with a friend of hers from the Funny Girl production, Chandler (the date goes spectacularly well in the way that they never run out of things to talk about, and spectacularly bad in the way that Kurt feels like he's on a date with a caricature of himself), that he comes to terms with the fact that yes, he wishes things had worked out with Blaine, and no, there's no one to blame about it, but yes, he's also allowed to be upset about something with so much potential slipping away, and he's allowed to hold on until something that good shows up without subjecting himself to terrible blind dates and subpar guys to fill the void.

He thinks he might have found someone worthy in Adam, from NYADA, and they go out for a while and it's actually really nice, but then Adam goes back to England for the Holidays and Kurt finds that he doesn't miss him at all – quite the opposite – and when Adam comes back he admits to feeling the same and they break up as boyfriends and remain friends.

He imagines that anyone would have their world turned a little or completely upside down by what happened to him, but, given the circumstances, he's quite proud of how he dealt with the situation, and how past it he's become in the last five months.

That is, of course, until the day that Blaine Anderson shows up on his doorstep, wearing an oversized hoodie, sunglasses and looking nothing like himself. "Hi."


	3. Part 3 of 4

Step 3: Initiate process of completely and irrevocably falling in love – proceed to screw it all up.

"Hi." Blaine says – his voice has never sounded smaller. Hell, his body has never looked smaller.

"Hi…" Kurt frowns, _what are you doing here after you stood me up for a date because the boyfriend I didn't know you had came into town so you went with him instead? _He doesn't say it.

"Can-can I come in?"

It takes exactly five seconds for Kurt's resolve of forgetting Blaine Anderson's beautiful face and move on with his life to dissolve and he steps aside to let Blaine in "Oh, huh, yes, I guess."

"I wasn't… I wasn't really sure where to go." He says as he drops a bag and wraps his arms tight around himself, hands buried in the sleeves of his oversized sweater.

"Blaine, I…" _I have no idea what you're doing here, and I'm really quite sure I should be kicking you out, and the only reason I'm not is because you look like you might do something really stupid if I do. _He doesn't say it.

Instead, he watches as Blaine quickly strides over to the window and inspects the street below before apparently deciding that it passes whatever inspection it was and collapsing on the sofa with a long, suffered sigh "I'm sorry." He gasps, pulling the hood down and taking his sunglasses out to reveal red-rimmed eyes and dark circles, "I don't even know… I'm a mess, and I'm sorry, I'll leave, I guess, I should. I don't even know why I came here, to tell you the truth, but everything's so… and there are paparazzi everywhere and I just didn't know where to go…! I'll find somewhere else, I promise, I don't want to…"

"Blaine, Blaine!" Kurt interrupts before walking over to sit next to him "What's wrong? What happened?"

"You don't know?" Blaine frowns, disbelief all over his face.

"No, I don't think so."

Blaine huffs a bitter laugh, "Small mercies." Before he buries his face in his hands.

"Tell me what's wrong…" _tell me this is not about you having a fight with your stupid boyfriend and showing up on my doorstep just so you can cry on my shoulder, because if it is…_

"I was so stupid, that's what happened."

"Blaine…" Kurt prompts gently.

"I can't believe… I never thought… Oh god, I'm just so stupid."

Kurt's about to press further when his cell beeps with a text in his pocket and he goes to silence it and throw it on the couch when his eyes instinctively read over the text preview "_OMG! I know you always say you don't wanna know about him but YOUR SUPERSTAR BOY HAS A SEX VID AND IT'S EVERYWHERE!"_

His heart stops and his chest clenches and he does drop his cell. So it's not (necessarily) about the boyfriend. So it's worse. Ignoring all of its repeated buzzing with a stream of incoming texts, he turns back to the small bundle of oversized fabric and clenching, trembling hands, "Blaine…?"

"It was so long ago… and… I didn't even… I thought he'd deleted it… we promised we would, I don't know how- Oh god!"

"Calm down, and tell me what happened. It's probably not that bad." Kurt says, cringing immediately afterward because it most likely is.

"I… I woke up yesterday and there was just… a s-swarm of-f of… oh, reporters outside my house and I just… I called my publicist and… I can't believe it just… _fuck_!"

"What is it?"

Blaine finally turns to look at Kurt, his eyes are brimming with fresh tears, "I was… I was so young and insecure and stupid, and I thought… It was my first real relationship, Sebastian… I'd never been with anyone like that and it was so new and so… amazing… and I just never wanted to upset him… And… and, huh, I had to stay in England for a couple of months because we were shooting a movie there, and he had his tour back in the US… we were both so busy and we barely had time to Skype and with the time zone difference it was just impossible." Blaine takes a deep breath and swallows, his voice already so thick with emotion, "And he suggested… _it_. I didn't even think… I just said yes, and he promised, he promised he'd delete the videos once we were back together." Blaine shakes his head, confusion and hurt taking over his voice and his words, "He _promised_. And I know, it's no excuse, I know I should never have agreed to it, but still. I just, I trusted him, you know? I never thought. I didn't even… I never thought of those again. I deleted his the moment I was on the plane back home… I just – it never crossed my mind he still had those."

Kurt's heart is in his throat as Santana's text throbs its way into his brain, loud and so very clear "What – what videos, Blaine?"

Blaine just gives him a sort of sad smile; "I think you can work that out by yourself, Kurt…"

"And he… Sebastian posted them?"

"No… I don't know… I don't think so. No. No! He wouldn't… we broke up, but… he wouldn't. He just – he wouldn't."

"You broke up?"

With a frown Blaine just shrugs, "Yes, like three months ago or whatever… You didn't know?" Kurt shakes his head in response and Blaine hesitates for a moment before he says, "That's why the album got delayed… I needed… I needed – I don't know. Anyway, we did break up, and it got a little messy – I wrote songs, he retaliated. It wasn't pretty – but it's over, and I know he would never,_ ever_ stoop that low." He nods with his words, probably needing to assure himself that they're true – they have to be. " He called me the moment he knew… He… he said… he must've forgotten he had those there. His computer broke last week, and he sent it in to get it fixed - and I don't know, I don't really care how or who… apparently the techie, I guess, found them and he must've thought it was a good way to make some quick cash…" Blaine smiles bitterly and hangs his head, "They're _everywhere,_ K-Kurt. Everywhe-ere!" Blaine gasps letting his face fall back to the shield of his hands as his shoulders shake with sobs.

"Oh no… Oh Blaine…" Kurt murmurs reaching out a hand to Blaine's shoulder and squeezing it gently. Blaine lets his head hang for a few moments, taking deep breaths before he looks back at Kurt and shakes his head.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." Blaine murmurs, "I don't even know why I came here… I just… I didn't know where else I could go without them following me… I got to New York and they were already at the hotel… and I needed… I guess I needed a friendly face that wasn't, you know my _parents_, which is just stupid because for all I know you hate me."

"What are you even talking about, Blaine? I don't hate you." _I thought I would, and maybe I should, but I don't, I really don't._ "Of course, you can stay for as long as you need Blaine."

"A-are you sure? I'm only supposed to be here for two days, anyway… I can get on a plane and go somewhere else, I don't- I don't want to impose."

"Not at all." Kurt says, just as his cell vibrates again with another text, against the couch.

"You can get that, if it's important." Blaine smiles gently and rolls his eyes at himself, sniffs and wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

"Oh no, it's just, it's, huh, just-" _my friends telling me about this with the worst possible timing._

"Oh." Comprehension dawns on Blaine's face and he just looks so small, so incredibly vulnerable. So very young. It dawns on Kurt that the years they have apart aren't as many as he once considered them to be. The four-year difference he felt was such a gap all those months ago feels like barely a day right now.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks gently.

"God no!" Blaine groans with a humorless laugh, "I want to pretend like this isn't happening. I just… I've never felt this stupid…" he mumbles and then chuckles sadly, "which is saying something because I've performed at themes parks…"

"Theme parks?" Kurt frowns.

"What, you think I got famous on the first try?" Blaine gives him a tearful teasing smile and Kurt returns it as best as he can.

"What do you want to do then?"

"I, huh, you're sure I'm not imposing?"

"No."

"Would it be horrible of me to ask for a shower?" Blaine scrunches up his face in a way that Kurt shouldn't find adorable but helplessly does, his voice barely there as a new tear rolls down his cheek and he wraps his sweater a little tighter around himself.

"Of course not!" Kurt says springing from his seat at once and going over to the bathroom, opening the door, turning on the light "You can use my products if you need, the huh, hot water has to be turned up completely otherwise it'll barely be room temperature. There are clean towels in the cupboard below the sink and, huh, do you need clothes?"

"Oh, no…!" Blaine blushes as he stands and gestures to the duffel bag Kurt's hadn't actually noticed before "I have my own, thanks." Kurt watches silently as Blaine opens his bag and takes out a clean set of clothes before gingerly making his way to the bathroom and gently closing the door behind himself.

It takes a moment before he regains feeling of his whole body and control of his brain. With shaking limbs he can only get himself to sit back on the couch and try to figure out what the hell just happened.

Blaine Anderson is back in his home. Blaine Anderson is showering in his bathroom (probably naked, too). Blaine Anderson has just cried on his sofa. Blaine Anderson has videos of – presumably – himself masturbating, plastered all over the Internet. Blaine Anderson came to him for comfort and safe haven.

Blaine Anderson who, months ago, had asked him out on a date. Blaine Anderson who had failed to mention is relationship status at the time was apparently up for debate. Blaine Anderson who, no matter how unwillingly so, had made him feel ten inches tall and inadequate in a way no one had ever before.

That same Blaine Anderson, was here, begging for his sympathy.

It's interesting that it takes him showing up like this, in a state that Kurt could never turn him away (because he's not heartless, despite what some might think), for Kurt to realize maybe he did want to turn him away. Maybe he _was_ mad at Blaine. Maybe for all the rationalizing he did (Blaine never promised anything; it was just a couple of dates; it's not like he said he wanted to be with you; it's not like he even lived in NYC; etc), he was still hurt and angry at having been made such a fool of.

But on the other hand, maybe it had to be like this. Because if he'd shown up in any other way, shape or form, Kurt_ would_ have turned him away – maybe not angrily (passive-aggressive has always been much more his style). He wouldn't have waited to hear him out or try to understand why he did the things he did.

Maybe this is the exact and only second chance they would ever be able to get at being (at least) friends.

With a trembling hand Kurt picks his cell phone up and checks the rest of Santana's texts.

_OMG scratch that, it's not *a* sex vid, it's like four._

_NO! Scratch that, too, it's not just normal sex vids, it's him jerking off._

_DON'T PRETEND YOU DON'T CARE, LADY HUMMEL. I'm coming home so we can watch them together!_

_Oh god, the curiosity is killing me. I don't know if I can wait til I'm home._

_If you don't answer me I'm gonna watch it on my phone right now._

_Hummel you sick fuck you wanna watch them alone, don't you? ;)_

_Imma watch them without you and then we can compare notes._

Kurt almost wants to puke as he wordlessly puts his cell phone down and refuses to look at it again, and instead choses to stare intently at anything that isn't his cell or the bathroom door.

It's a long time before he hears the water shutting off, and he wonders how much time does one need to wash that kind of humiliation off their skin. The thought makes his heart clench, and he gets up to make some tea – tea always helps, right?

He's just put the kettle on when the front door bursts open and Santana's voice announces her arrival loud and clear "I mean, I don't even know what the fuss is all about – it's so unbelievably vanilla!"

"Santana!" Kurt gasps, blanching at once and willing the bathroom door to be thicker than he knows it is.

"I mean, most of the time you can't even see his boy parts, you know?-"

"Santana, _shut up_!"

"-I mean if you're gonna do a sex tape, you might as well just go for it!" she continues unperturbed.

"Shut up!"

"Calm down," she rolls her eyes as she starts unpeeling her jacket "I'm not gonna spoil it for you, I'm just saying, from the little that he showed it doesn't look like he has anything to be ashamed of, but-"

The bathroom door clicks open and a stoic faced Blaine steps out with a pile of clothes in one hand and wet towel in another. Santana's eyes look like they might just pop out of her face, as Blaine calmly makes his way across the room and hands Kurt the towel "Thank you, Kurt, but maybe I really should just go." His voice trembles just enough for Kurt to notice how bright his eyes have become again, and _dammit Santana. You and your big, disrespectful mouth._

"No, Blaine, stay. She didn't… she didn't mean that. Any of it. Please stay."

"Oh my god, I didn't know – I – why didn't you tell me?" She gasps.

"I tried to." He says quickly and dismissive, before turning back to Blaine "Please, stay here. I want you to. You shouldn't… be alone or anything, Blaine. Santana's a great distraction when she's not being a complete bitch, and Rachel's so self-obsessed that you couldn't find a better way to get your mind off it if you tried."

"I…"

"Hey, Anderson, I'm sorry… I'm sorry about what I said. If you need somewhere to hang low you can totally stay with us." She says, her voice surprisingly soft, "And, like I said, you got nothing to be ashamed of."

Blaine pales a bit and Kurt sends her a murderous glare, before turning back to Blaine and touching his elbow lightly, "Blaine, come on, just stay for dinner at least. We can watch a movie and eat ice-cream."

Blaine lets out a soft chuckle before he sighs and nods, "Ok, thanks."

As he moves to put his clothes back in his bag Santana turns to Kurt all wide eyes and wild gestures, mouthing "what the fuck?!" and Kurt just shoots her a dismissive glare and picks up his cell intent on not repeating his mistake. He texts Rachel "_BLAINE ANDERSON IS AT THE LOFT. PLEASE DO NOT MENTION THE VIDEOS WHEN YOU GET HOME. BRING ICE-CREAM_."

"_What?!"_

"_Just don't mention the videos._" He texts as fast as he can while he pretends to busy himself with the kettle.

"_What videos?! I've been in rehearsal all day_."

"_Oh. My. God._"

"_This is horrible. It's everywhere. Is he really there?"_

"_He must be upset. I'll be there asap with ice-cream."_

The evening turns out fairly pleasant, all things considered. The four of them make dinner together and, true to Kurt's word, Rachel proves to be a perfect distraction once Blaine asks her about her Funny Girl rehearsals. In the end, with all the unnecessary hands and the constant interruptions for singing, dancing and just goofing around, it takes them hours before dinner is ready.

"So Mr. Renaissance Man," Rachel asks as they bring the finished product onto the dining table "Ever considered Broadway?"

"I've been broached about it, and when I was younger I did want it… I love show tunes, I always have, but… I'm not quite sure I have the right voice for it, even though some of the more contemporary things I imagine might work… But it's also that making the same show every night for months… I'm afraid I'd get bored, or frustrated."

"So, not a chance?" Kurt asks softly.

"Oh, definitely. With the right part, the right reasons for doing it, I'd totally do it." he smiles, "I guess it'd have been easier if I had started there, like I'd originally planned. But now I've just gotten so used to this rhythm… always something new happening, you know? I mean I don't know if I could give up the chance to be working on an album and shooting for films at the same time…"

Every time he catches Blaine laughing or smiling Kurt's chest feels significantly lighter. He gets caught staring more than once, but Blaine only smiles a little wider and when they settle down after dinner, to binge watch musicals and stuff their faces in ice-cream, Blaine sits next to him on the couch, maybe a little unnecessarily close, "Thank you for this…"

Kurt looks at him and shrugs, "Anytime." To which Blaine smiles and brings his knees up to his chest and hugs himself around the legs.

Halfway through the second movie Blaine's snuggling even closer. Kurt turns to him and says, "You ok?"

Blaine nods and mumbles, "Just sleepy…"

"You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Oh, no!" Blaine gasps, pulling himself away and rubbing the sleep off his eyes "Don't be silly. I'm not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own home, Kurt!"

"You two are adorable." Santana drawls out from where she's sprawled over the love seat, "pretending you don't wanna share the bed."

Kurt blushes crimson red and refuses to look anywhere but his lap as he feels Blaine stiffen slightly by his side. After a couple of silent moments, Blaine relaxes back into Kurt's side and murmurs so than only Kurt can hear "I'm serious, either you take the bed or we both sleep on this couch."

Kurt gives him a challenging glare and Blaine ducks his face laughing again. With a smirk Kurt prods him with his foot and Blaine yelps softly and says "Ow." And then, shifting his eyes between his own hands and Kurt's eyes he adds with a small, shy smile "You have big feet."

"Oh… huh, yeah, I guess."

"You know what they say about men with big feet." Blaine whispers, amusement creeping through his voice.

"Oh my god." Santana groans, prompting Blaine to burst out laughing again.

"Big feet, large shoes." He informs the room and the four of them can't help joining in.

The girls fall asleep half way through the third film and Kurt's enough of a dweeb to go find some blankets to drape over them. He doesn't miss the way Blaine's still watching him but he pretends not to notice it as he sits back down on the couch.

"Hey…" Blaine smiles, letting his head lean against the back of the couch.

"Hey." Kurt mumbles back.

"Hi." Blaine grins, and Kurt can't help but return it.

"Hi…!" he almost laughs.

"I'm…" Blaine starts and his smile dims down significantly "I've thought a lot about that night, and I'm really sorry for it, Kurt."

"Hey." Kurt frowns and puts a hand on Blaine's forearm, draped across the back of the couch, "I don't care about that night." He does. He so cares about that night. He cares too much about that night. He's afraid that if they start talking about it he'll just get upset and angry and burst out at Blaine and end up saying things that might be stupid, and making accusations that might be untrue.

"But I do." Blaine admits, and Kurt understands that this something he needs to say. While Kurt might not be ready to talk about it, Blaine apparently is. And what if what Blaine has to say answers his own questions? Sooths his own worries? Mellows his own anger?

He moves his hand to Blaine's and squeezes softly prompting him on "Why do you?"

Blaine swallows and looks up, apparently looking for the right words, "Every time Sebastian and I fought after that night, and sometimes even when we were okay, I always thought that maybe I should've just… gone after you. I… I don't think I resented him for not doing that, you know. It was my choice and at the time I thought, three years against one night… and I did love him, at some point I did and I just wanted it back, but it wasn't…" he's clearly losing track of himself in his speech so he stops and gathers his thoughts back, "First of all, I need you to know that… when I met you, we weren't exactly together. We had a fight – a big fight, and I honestly thought it was over. I know it was wrong, and I'm so sorry, Kurt, I really truly am. I could never apologize enough for the way I treated you – I lied by omission, and it wasn't fair to you. _I _wasn't fair to you. I'm so sorry."

"Oh. Wow." Kurt gasps "Turns out I really did need to hear that." Kurt mumbles, "I was… I was a little angry about that. I didn't want to admit that I was, but I was…"

"I'm so sorry." Blaine breathes.

"I think I can forgive you, Blaine." He says without managing a smile, yet.

"You have to understand that my relationship with Sebastian wasn't just on the rocks, it… it was downright unhealthy at the time, and I think, unconsciously it felt good going after someone who wasn't him, showing myself I had other options… And looking back… I was doing just that, and somehow, I was still stupid enough to go back to him. I did have another option and it was so good, Kurt. You were – you _are_ so… wonderful, and I meant it when I told you that. I'll always mean that." Blaine attempts a smile that Kurt can't quite bring himself to return, because it still hurts a little thinking about the false hope and the dashed dreams, "And just… somehow, I let you go for him, and he… well, he threw that away, you know? He just… he threw everything away. It wasn't, it wasn't just you – I'm not that… naïve, I know we only had one date and it's not like…" he rolls his eyes and makes a face to try to convey the idea that Kurt so well understands, because he's repeated it over and over again to himself. "But every sacrifice I ever made for him, he just… he kept taking and taking and taking, and he never gave me anything back, and at some point I just didn't have anything left to give him because he'd just…" he groans and clenches his fists.

"Blaine…"

"So every time I think about that night, I wonder, if I'd gone after you… Maybe I'd have kept something for myself, you know? All of those sacrifices I made…, it just feels like it was for nothing because he didn't even acknowledge he was in the wrong, you know?" Blaine swallows and laughs like it's the least funny thing in the world, "He just… in the end, he said he was only human and it happens, and nothing's ever perfect… Like that was enough." Blaine rolls his eyes, shining with moisture as he tries to blink it way, "Like he didn't just make me feel stupid and… and…" he sniffs and brushes his tears with the back of his hand "Oh god, this is insane. I'm over it, I really am… It was so long ago. And he's not a horrible person. He's just selfish and self-centered and he's… young. But he's not _evil_ – he didn't set out to hurt me or anything. He genuinely cared about me, I think he did love me too, maybe, he just… didn't know how to do it very well. And I didn't either, I think. I'm not blameless here. I realize I made plenty of mistakes and I hurt him, too, in my own way. I just think we weren't meant to be, you know?" He sighs, "But I'm… I guess I'm just still furious with _myself_ for letting all of that happen. For letting that night happen. I know, Kurt, I know I should've stopped him, I should've said you were picking me up for a date, and I should've told him to leave, and I'm so mad with myself that I didn't."

"I, huh, I guess… I'm kind of angry with you that you didn't, too." Kurt says, but he does smile, adding it as an illustration of his forgiveness.

Blaine returns the smile and mouths 'thank you', before closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, "You know this is the first time he's ever truly apologized for something?"

"What is?"

"The videos… He's completely torn up about it. We hadn't spoken in months, especially after the album came out – oh god," Blaine huffs a laugh, "he was so mad about the album –, but today he called me and he was just incredibly upset about them leaking." Blaine shrugs, "I mean, it takes me being completely and internationally humiliated for him to recognize his mistakes affect other people."

"Blaine, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah…" Blaine shrugs and lets his eyes close, with a deep breath. When he opens them he finds Kurt and tilts his head gently, "So, you know, that's what I mean when I say that that night does matter to me. It probably wouldn't change tonight, because the videos would still be there, but at least I would have… I don't know…"

"Hey. You still broke up. You still got over him and you stood up for yourself."

"I should've done it earlier."

"You did it when you needed to."

Blaine gives him a feeble but warm smile, "And yet, late enough to blow my chances with you."

Kurt waves a hand dismissively, and goes for total nonchalance as he repeats his own personal mantra for the last few months, "Oh, you never had any, Blaine. I mean, what the hell was I thinking, right? Getting involved with someone who lives in a completely different world than me."

Blaine bites his lip nervously, and smiles softly while he studies Kurt carefully, finally he seems to give up altogether and asks in a gentle, slightly amused tone, as he moves his feet to gently push against Kurt's thigh. "What _were _you thinking, then?"

Kurt considers being honest about it, but in the end the atmosphere feels like it needs an open window, "I was thinking you knew all the right people, you know, for when I finish NYADA and get out there into that world. I could always say, hey, I spent a night sucking faces with Blaine Anderson, you better give me that part." Kurt declares and Blaine's smile widens beautifully as he laughs, "And it didn't hurt you were pretty cute."

"Pretty cute?" Blaine repeats, looking at Kurt through his stupid perfect long eyelashes.

"I… huh… I guess. Somewhat."

"I'll take what I can get." Blaine nods, looking peaceful, if not happy. They stay silent for a moment before Blaine suddenly sighs and laughs, "You know what the funniest part is?"

"Is there a funny part?"

Blaine gives him a soft smile before saying, "I'm so stupidly strict with my nudity clauses… and even topless photo shoots make me super uncomfortable. I mean, it's not that I'm self-conscious about my body or anything…"

"Why would you, right? Like, whatever, it's just a body! Never mind the abs, and the-" Kurt frowns sarcastically, waving a dismissive hand and rolling his eyes.

"Don't make fun of me!" Blaine giggles, and licks his lip before he continues, "It's just that… I've become so… private… with this whole fame thing. I don't like being public domain if I can avoid it. I mean, I love that I'm doing this and that I have a chance to, you know, perform and actually mean something to people. But my personal life, and my body… when they're put out there for everybody to see, it freaks me out a little. Well, a lot, actually." He laughs in spite of himself, and continues, "I didn't think it would, when I started, but it does. Maybe it was… maybe it was the first time Sebastian and I broke up… the media just ran with it like it was… entertainment, and it was… I was heartbroken, you know? I couldn't believe they'd just plaster it on their pages like that… It might be silly and naïve to have expected otherwise, but that's when I knew that most of them didn't care about me at all… Not just the reporters, everyone. Most people. They just want a story, whatever it is. And that's not what I set out to do."

"As it shouldn't be."

Blaine nods before shrugging, "This whole thing is such a mess."

"I think you should just sleep, Blaine. You must be exhausted, maybe it'll feel a little better in the morning."

Blaine huffs out a long breath before he sighs and nods, "But I'm still taking the couch."

Kurt lets out a groan but throws his hands up and says "Fine." Before getting up and collecting the bowls of ice cream to take to the kitchen, while Blaine rummages his bag for a toothbrush.

They brush their teeth side by side and try not to laugh too much when it does end up in a competition to see who takes the longest. When they're finally done (Blaine forfeits with a groan and an eye roll "you know there is such a thing as over brushing!"), Kurt walks him back to the couch and hands him a warm blanket. He turns to leave but Blaine catches his wrist gently and pulls him down to press a kiss to his cheek "Thank you. So much."

"Anytime." He breathes, "Sleep well, Blaine."

"You too."

Kurt closes the curtain around himself and slips under the covers feeling like he could never fall asleep again. He doesn't know if he's imagining things but despite everything he can't deny the way that Blaine's lips felt on his skin again, even if it was just on his cheek. And he can't deny that he would give anything to have them back on his lips, where they so clearly belong.

He's almost asleep when the sound of rustling fabric and padding bare feet bring him back, and he turns to find Blaine pushing the curtain aside and walking inside. He's biting his lip in the way that Kurt's come to identify as nervousness and insecurity, and he's looking at Kurt like he's asking him something, "Kurt, I…"

Kurt could only ever say yes. And he does; he nods, and moves to welcome Blaine into his own space.

As Blaine climbs into bed with him, Kurt can't do anything but search for his warm, beautiful lips and be reminded of how they're meant to kiss him, like this, so unguarded, so eager, so honest.

They pull away and Kurt finds Blaine's eyes searching his own, unmistakably vulnerable and looking for something Kurt's never been more eager to give. He brushes their noses together, softly, before he whispers "Wow…"

"What?"

Kurt lets his hands rest over Blaine's jaw as he kisses him again, soft and sweet "Just… _you_, just wow."

Blaine lets his forehead fall against the crook of Kurt's neck and Kurt can hear the shuffle of fabric. He glances down to find Blaine's hands already working the buttons of his own shirt open. Kurt's hands make their way up, to Blaine's shoulders, carefully pushing the unbuttoned shirt off them, and his palms skim the soft surface of his warm skin. He leans forward to brush lips and nose against the skin, to inhale the smell of his own familiar products but laced with something spicy and sweet, and it feels like the perfect definition for Blaine. He presses a kiss to the little bone at the edge of his right shoulder, and another one just next to it, and another and another, until he's kissing just below Blaine's ear and he breathes "Just wow."

From this angle he can't see Blaine's tears, but he can hear his heavy breathing, and he can feel the cold splash of them and he moves to kiss them away.

The privacy curtain is a joke as far as real privacy's concerned, but the girls aren't making any noise at all, and the two of them are good at silencing each other's moans with deep kisses and spit slick fingers. They move against each other, their skin smooth with sweat, as mouths attach themselves to any expanse of skin available; hands grab and caress and map each other out like their lives depend on it. When Kurt comes, Blaine holds his body so close and so tight it feels like he'll never let go, and Kurt can't help hoping he won't. Barely five seconds afterwards Kurt is the one holding Blaine's face between his hands, caressing his cheeks and his lips as bliss takes over his flushed, eager body.

They can barely be bothered to lazily wipe some Kleenexes across their stomachs before they go back to sleep, sated and surprisingly at ease with what just happened. Kurt falls asleep to Blaine's lips moving against the back of his neck in lazy, soft and unassuming kisses.

xxx

They wake up hours later to the sound of Santana's voice "Don't think I don't know what happened! I can smell your vanilla sex from here. I'd say wanky but I seriously doubt anything even remotely wanky happened."

"Santana!" Rachel's voice hisses from the general direction of the kitchen.

"I mean, it's fine. You're perfect for each other, I guess. In a really boring way."

Kurt groans and turns to bury his face in Blaine's (oh my god naked) chest, "God, could she be any more embarrassing?"

"I'm sure she could try." Blaine mumbles, hand coming to pet Kurt's shoulder at an awkward angle.

They fall back into a calm pattern of breathing, but stay awake. After a stretch of silence Blaine stretches hid head and asks "What's that?", jerking his head towards the beautiful, intricate bracelet hanging on the headboard.

"Oh… it's a friendship bracelet." Kurt blushes slightly, "My mom made it for me when I was five… I kept crying to her because I was always alone at school, the boys wouldn't play with me because… well, obvious, really; and the girls got to that age where it didn't matter how much I loved tea parties and playing house, I just had boy cooties and wasn't allowed in their group… I just didn't have any friends, and I'd cry a lot over it, and I'd complain that all the girls that used to be my friends now had friendship bracelets and I had none, and she made that…"

"Aw, that's insanely sweet, and a little sad." Blaine murmurs, pressing a kiss to Kurt's breast bone.

"Yes, well… that's life."

Blaine looks up, resting his hand over Kurt's heart, "I wish I could go back in time and make you one, too." He smiles, "If I'd known you back then, I would've been your friend, and I would've made you one. I know it."

Kurt returns his smile and shakes his head "I'll wait patiently for the invention of the time machine, then." He pushes himself onto his elbows, "In the meantime, I'm kind of hungry."

"Try starving." Blaine kisses his forehead before smoothly slipping out of bed and then grimacing, and Kurt can feel on his own stomach the reason for that.

"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I'll have a shower and you can go afterwards."

Blaine smiles and picks up his shirt and boxers from last night, pulling them on in slow, easy movements. He leans over the bed once he's done and presses his lips to Kurt's, "Hurry up, I feel gross."

"Are you saying that having our dried semen all over your stomach makes you feel gross?" Kurt gasps in fake outrage and Blaine laughs before he sinks down for another kiss, still smiling.

"Hey," he says, as he pulls away, "Last night was amazing, thank you. I'm so glad I came here."

Kurt beams and pulls him back to his lips "I'm glad you came here, too. I really am, Blaine."

Blaine pulls away and gently pushes a few stray hairs off Kurt's forehead, smiling down at him with bright eyes and a happy flush to his cheeks. Finally he sighs and stands back up "Food for me, shower for you.", he pushes the curtains aside and leaving to find breakfast.

"Hey girls," Kurt hears as he picks up his robe, "Thank you for last night, it really made me feel a bit more human again."

"I'm just sorry we couldn't help as much as elf-face."

"You disturb me." Blaine says quietly.

xxx

The girls scamper off at some point, whether actually busy or pretending to be Kurt doesn't know, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Now it's just him and Blaine sitting on the couch, sneaking glances at each other as Blaine studies his script for Iron Man 4, which begins shooting in three weeks, Kurt studies his Musical Theory textbook – well, he attempts to study it. After Blaine catches Kurt staring for the fifth time, though, he smacks him over the knees with the big stack of white paper and whines, half laughing "What?"

"I don't know… it's just… it's surreal, you know."

"What's surreal?"

"You here… with… with me. In my home. In my _bed_."

Blaine gives him a small smile, but doesn't say anything.

"I mean… I got to see you naked…!"

"You and just about anyone with decent Internet connection, Kurt."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. But you know what I mean."

Blaine nods, and Kurt does notice the sadness but can't think of anything else to make it a little bit better, so instead he adds, "Last night was really something else, Blaine."

After a long look, as he bites his lip, Blaine let's out a long breath and shrugs slightly "Kurt, I-"

The doorbell rings. Kurt frowns, knowing they're not expecting anyone and he walks carefully over to the door "Who is it?"

"Kurt Hummel?"

"Yes?"

"Delivery for you." He sighs and glances over towards Blaine who's gone back to his script but doesn't seem to be reading a single word of it, frowning and looking too tense. He looks away before Blaine can catch him staring again and slides the door open. A flash immediately blinds him. He can hear the camera shutter clicking and clicking away and it's a few seconds before he can even thing of pushing the door closed.

"What was that?!" Blaine gasps, already shooting out of the couch.

"Oh my god!" Kurt breathes, finally starting to regain some of his sight. Blaine hurrying over to the window.

"Fuck!" he can hear him swear, "Fuck! Fuck!"

"What is it?" Kurt frowns and heads over to the window only to find a swarm of reporters below right by the entrance to the building, cameras at the ready like vultures, "Oh no!"

"Fuck!" seems to be the only word Blaine knows as he fumbles desperately for something in his bag, pulling out his cell and punching it. "Hey, they're here… they're too many, I can't… you have to-yeah, yes. Please. I don't know, I don't know how they knew. Yes, well _obviously_ someone said something. I don't know who it was, no. I thought they were! I-Just come get me, please." He says as way of goodbye and shoves it back in his bag before searching it for a pair of jeans and pulling them over his boxers.

"Blaine." Kurt sighs, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up because every inch of his body somehow knows things have just gone very, very wrong. "Blaine, Blaine, talk to me… Please… We can figure something out. We can wait them out. You can stay here until they go away…"

"Until they…! Kurt! Somebody told them I'm here!" Blaine's practically screaming, "And do you know how many people know I'm here?"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Kurt shoots back, instinctively defensive and hurt by such an accusation.

"I don't care who told them!" Blaine groans as he shoves his arms through he jacket "FUCK!"

"Blaine, calm down!" Kurt calls after him, in that tone that usually gets Rachel to finally shut up and listen. It doesn't really work with Blaine, apparently.

"Calm down? Calm down?! There are videos of me jacking off all over the Internet and you know what else there'll be in about half an hour? Photos of us in our goddamn underwear!" he groans and goes back to shoving things in his bag, "I just can't catch a fucking break, can I?! What is it with people and selling me out for-"

"Hey, let's not just jump to-"

"Let's not what, Kurt? Let's not jump to the conclusion that one of your fame crazed bitch friends decided to make a buck or two telling everyone where I was? Because it sure as hell isn't like the world just woke up and decided – oh, I know where Blaine Anderson is, he's at that loft in Bushwick! – and oh, isn't this perfect for you – minimal input and maximum output! Oh well done you, you just managed to fuck that singer guy and here's an interview for you tell the world all about it and get some _well_-deserved fame… so _you_ stay calm, Kurt!" He's practically yelling, brushing away tears with angry, trembling hands.

"Blaine, calm down, that's spectacularly unfair!"

"Oh is it, Kurt? Well, guess what! I don't care. I'm done caring. I always care – I always do, and what does it get me? Fucked over, each time. Each fucking time! And I've had it! I've had it with people using me…! _Oh wow_, I'm sleeping with Blaine Anderson, _oh wow_, this is so surreal, _oh wow_, how awesome to get into _his_ fucking famous pants!" Kurt would never in a million years imagine he'd ever get to see Blaine Anderson yelling through angry tears, and he would even expect it less to be directed at him. He's so stunned by the whole thing he can only stare back and let him go on, "I am not _him_!" Blaine chokes out pointing at the window, pointing at the sea of reporters, "I am not him! I am not some exotic creature you can fuck and get something out of it! I am me. I'm real. I'm not an idea, or a concept. I'm not just a name, Kurt. I'm me. For fuck's sake, I'm just me."

"Blaine, I _know_ that…"

"Do you?" there's only a fizzle of anger left in Blaine's eyes. Everything else is just hurt, "It didn't sound like you do."

"Blaine, I don't-, I don't understand what more do you want from me, I just… Do we really wanna throw away last night because of something silly like this?"

"Silly?" Blaine blanches.

"Well, not silly, no… that was the wrong word. But still, you know… just… it's not the end of the world, you're overreacting."

Blaine's cell rings and he gives Kurt a hardened look before shrugging his bag strap over his shoulder "Bye."

"Blaine!" he calls after him, as Blaine opens the door and immediately a camera starts flashing, but thankfully it's only the one guy with enough nerves to come upstairs to their door, and Kurt can't do anything but stare as Blaine grabs the camera right out of the man's hand, walks back inside the house, drops it to the sink, opens the tap at full power, while working the memory stick out of it and snapping it in two.

"Hey! Hey!"

"Fuck you." Blaine tells the paparazzo, walking right past him towards the elevator.

"Blaine!" Kurt calls after him but it's too late and Kurt knows it.

He turns back to the loft and glares at the man holding his dripping camera like it's a precious broken porcelain doll. "What're you doing here? Get the fuck out!"

The man doesn't immediately react, but once Kurt starts towards him he scrambles off and Kurt locks the door behind him.

What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened.

He lets himself slide against the door to the floor as he just takes deep calming breaths and tries to figure out what the hell just happened.

He has to admit it; it had to be one of the girls. No one else would've known. But how could they? After last night, how _could_ they?

And how could Blaine have accused him of all those things? Of using him for his fame? Of objectifying him? Of being just as bad as everyone else?

Of course he'd joked about it, but it was just a joke, and Blaine knew that. He'd laughed at it, he knew it was just a_ stupid_ joke. But Blaine was_ so_ hurt, and there was no way that Kurt hadn't done or said something to make him that way.

_It didn't sound like you do._

With a gasp, the conversation on the couch comes back to him and his eyes burn with shame and anger at himself as he realizes what it must've sounded like._ It's surreal. You in my bed. I got to see you naked. _After that night, after Blaine exposed himself like that to him, why would he say such a stupid thing? Why would you make him feel like a glorified sex toy?

It might've been true – it _was_ a surreal situation, and it made him feel giddy – but it still wasn't the right thing to say to someone who'd gone through what Blaine had just experienced – to someone who, oh god, had probably been used in exactly that way countless times before. Someone who spends most of his interactions with other people hoping their interest in him is genuine and not opportunistic. Someone who probably hasn't had a night with someone else without wondering _who _they really want to sleep with.

And he just had to say it right before the world's biggest screw up happened, right before he had a chance to say something else, to explain he didn't mean anything by it, to explain that Blaine was the most beautiful _human_ being Kurt had ever been with that way, regardless of who he was outside of that bedroom.

All of him, the fame _and_ the privacy.

"Oh god." He moans letting his forehead hit the top of his knees as he hugs his legs close to him "Oh fuck…"

_Oh wow, I'm sleeping with Blaine Anderson, oh wow, this is so surreal, oh wow, how awesome to get into his fucking famous pants!_

Hearing Blaine's voice mimicking his own words from the night before blended right through with this morning's conversation, Kurt knows it's not what he meant, but with a stabbing pain to his gut, he knows that it is exactly what it sounded like.

And, shit, will he ever have the chance to tell him otherwise?


	4. Part 4 of 4

**Step 4: Don't ignore your feelings. Go after him. Don't let petty pride get in the way.**

It was Rachel, he finds, later that night once the girls come back to a furious, seething Kurt. She didn't mean to, though. It had honestly been an accident. She had seen a group of co-workers at the production laughing riotously over Blaine's videos, mid-rehearsal, and she had gotten so mad and so upset she had gone far enough to announce she was not only good friends with Blaine, but was also sheltering him through the mess. Her tongue had slipped (and by slip, we mean she just couldn't help herself bragging even when her intentions were initially good) near the wrong person, and that was that.

Not like it matters now, Blaine is long gone and Kurt can't even call him because in the space of a few hours he's already gone as far as changing his number.

Rachel keeps apologizing to Kurt, and he keeps pretending he's forgiven her.

But after that Kurt can't help doing the exact opposite of before. He goes back to see and listen to everything about Blaine he's missed over the last months. He finds that the release date for Blaine's latest album had indeed been delayed until barely two weeks ago, he finds that the explanation for that was that suddenly more than half of the album was breakup songs (titles such as: _Laid to Waste, Running Out, Laundry_), and that while some people started to call him "a manlier Taylor Swift" they couldn't deny that the songs were remarkably good, and they couldn't deny the strong, empowered energy that the whole album had, straying from Blaine's usual soft Pop vibes. He watches Sebastian's response at the time: the addition of Avril Lavigne's _What the Hell_ to his band's set list for their ongoing national tour and it seems so ridiculously shallow and petty, when compared to Blaine's songs, that Kurt knows Blaine was telling the truth about their relationship.

He finds_** the**_ videos, but doesn't watch them (couldn't possibly) and feels so angry at some of the headlines and comments from the media that he slams his laptop shut several times.

It's barely been days, but there's already reports of a million dollar suit against a technical support company filed by Sebastian Smythe for breach of contract and privacy, and as soon as it starts it's over with a generous settlement (that is just as quickly donated to a charity Blaine's heavily associated with) and the termination of contract of the one employee who leaked the videos, as well as an official and very public apology from the company. Of course there are still people who swear up and down that it had to be Sebastian to leak the videos as revenge for Blaine's songs, but there are just as many tabloid photos of Sebastian as there are of Blaine, and he always looks rightfully furious, and not in the least guilty. Kurt's not too sure what to think, but he prefers to believe that it wasn't yet another person who Blaine used to love and trust that betrayed him.

He watches the interview Blaine gives, not a week later, about the videos and the charges pressed against him by the guy whose camera he broke. Kurt can tell the signs of exhaustion on Blaine's face and body as he talks, even though to anyone else he might look okay.

"It's just hard," Blaine says, "Coming to terms with… this kind of vulnerability. I didn't choose it. I'm doing what I love, which is performing, but I never wanted to give up my identity or my privacy over it. I feel like I've become an object and that people look at me and feel entitled to know about my private life and feel like they have the right to an opinion. They really, really don't."

"You feel like an object?" The reporter asks.

"Most definitely. And it's… it's so unfair that half of this is happening because I'm who I am. If this was a straight male celebrity, this would've been forgotten in two weeks. Because it's me, it's reason for national debate about promiscuity…?"

"Some might say you brought this upon yourself, though." The report has self-righteousness all over his voice and face, and Kurt wonders if there's a way to mute only him, while Blaine gives the man a scowl.

"_Absolutely not_. I recorded those videos for one person and one person alone. Someone who I was in an intimate, private relationship with. The only reason those videos are out there is because someone abused their position and decided to profit from robbing me of my privacy."

"If you could go back in time, would you not record them?"

Blaine frowns "That's a… silly question. Of course I wouldn't, because I know where they'd end up plastered. But the point is, I should have the right to make those videos and keep them between myself and the person I made them for. I shouldn't be treated like I'm less than, just because I acted on my sexuality and now there's proof of it out there. Suddenly all the work I've done is just reduced to these four videos of me floating around the Internet like some sad spectacle."

"So you don't_ really_ regret anything about your actions in this?"

"I regret some, but those are_ miraculously _still private, so I'm not sharing them with you."

Kurt's heart picks up and he wonders if Blaine's talking about him, if Blaine regrets not staying to hear him out, if he regrets having yelled at him with such strong words. Or if he just regrets the whole thing all together. Kurt really hopes it isn't the latter.

"But, honestly you must-?"

"Listen, everyone just needs to realize that us famous folks, we're people, too. With feelings and everything. Everyone is. And that's all." He shrugs with a small smile that's much more directed to those watching than it is to the interviewer, "But I do get that sometimes people lose sight of that, even if they don't realize it, and I know they don't necessarily mean harm or anything like that; It's just that it still hurts when they do. I'm sorry if I overreact sometimes, and I do, I know that. I'm sorry for that."

"So you do apologize for breaking that camera?"

"Oh, no, not at all. Not for that."

An overwhelming mix of feelings, regret, shame and relief envelop Kurt in such a way that he can't bring himself to leave the couch until the only thing on TV is infomercials and re-runs of bad shows. On the one hand, Blaine apparently knows Kurt didn't mean to hurt him like that, and he knows he overreacted and hurt him in return – hell, he's apologizing for it on TV and it might not be overt and he might not say his name, but Kurt is smart enough to catch a message addressed to him when he sees one.

On the other hand, though, he still made Blaine feel like that, he put him in a position to recoil deep within himself and protect what little dignity he had left that night. In truth, Kurt knows that if he were in Blaine's shoes he wouldn't have been gracious enough to apologize for the overreaction barely a week later – he would assume it as rightfully his.

He crawls into bed and hopes that Blaine knows he really, really never meant to make him feel like that.

Two weeks later he watches Blaine's unplugged concert and, like the rest of the world, is surprised to find Sebastian climbing on the stage right after Blaine, microphone in hand and smiling. His heart is halfway broken by the time Blaine explains Sebastian's presence, "For this first song I'm happy to share the stage with a lost boyfriend, an _inspiring _ex-boyfriend and finally a good friend. We didn't get to collaborate for my last album, as was planned, so we do it now, kindly asking the media to mind its own business. Please give a warm welcome to the_ sensational_ Sebastian Smythe!"

Kurt actually does laugh as they start on a strange but delightful cover of _My Prerogative_, playing off each other in a way that only two people who've been close for years can, but also looking about as platonic as one can. With a smile, Kurt thinks, at least it looks like he's doing fine and finding a support system within _realistic_ options.

However, that's not the only surprise, as the set list includes brand new songs, some with words that cut right through Kurt ('_Cause just as Rita always said/ you did wake up to me/ and I can't help feeling sorry/ that you did wake up to me/ just me, no one else, no one more/ And so she always said/ they go to bed with Gilda/ and wake up to just Rita/ and I hate it that I'm sorry/ that you did wake up to me_) and songs that put him right back together (_In my dreams I hold you to me/ I keep you there/ hot skin to hot skin/ never let that day begin/ so that we could never end/ I want to hope, I like to think/ In your dreams you keep me there_).

Blaine smiles and thanks each round of applause as gracefully and profusely as possible and Kurt would give anything, anything, to be there and tell him "I do dream that. I dream I'd kept you here."

Rachel is sitting there, next to him, hand to her mouth as she whispers "Oh my… was that…?"

Kurt swallows the thickness to his voice and nods "I think so, yeah."

"Oh wow." She gasps, and turns suddenly to Kurt "You need to tell him. You do."

"How?" Kurt sighs, "I don't even have his number anymore, he changed it."

Rachel gives him that intense, sorrowful look that only she can achieve and moans "I'm so sorry, Kurt. It's all my fault. It is, but I promise I'll find a solution."

Kurt rolls his eyes as he watches her get off the couch all determination and no direction. Unlike her, he makes his way slowly out of the couch, feeling heavy and too muddled with emotions to be able to think straight. How doesn't Blaine know, how doesn't he know that Kurt never regretted waking up to him; only regrets letting him get out of his bed?

"You were your loveliest that very morning…" Kurt wants to tell him.

xxx

Unsurprisingly, Rachel doesn't find a solution – or at least not before Kurt decides to let go of his torch. The truth is Blaine could contact him if he wanted – he really could, but he didn't and Kurt needs to accept that and move on.

Startlingly, it's really not any easier the second time around. He mopes, he knows he does. He goes for rebound guys – plural, more than one, and soon enough decides that might just be the stupidest thing he's ever tried. He throws himself into school, and work. Finally, thinking it had worked well enough before, he tries cutting Blaine completely out of his world, tricky as it might be, but, to his horror, finds that active avoidance only makes him think more about Blaine.

It's been a year since their first kiss. A full year. Rachel's Funny Girl opening night has come and gone (perfectly well), his audition has also passed (well enough, but no financing to get the show through), Mercedes has had a successful tour around the US, and Santana has found her true calling as a publicist (and tells him she could maybe get Blaine's contact if he wanted, which he tells her he doesn't).

He observes the finished result of Sam's birthday cake and tries not to think about how it's almost an exact match to the one he'd made the night Blaine was his date to the party, charmed all his friends and completely and irrevocably made his way into Kurt's heart, filling out even the deepest of corners that Kurt can't quite reach himself.

Alone, in the kitchen and looking at that cake, is the only moment Kurt lets himself admit that maybe the reason he can't really get over Blaine is because he doesn't want to. Blaine was (_is_) special in ways he can't even begin to understand, and none of those had anything to do with his fame or success. Why would anyone want to let go of that?

With a smile, strangely more genuine than bitter, he boxes it up and tells the girls he's ready to go.

Some of them – the ones that don't live in NY, the ones that aren't that good at keeping in touch – tease him about Blaine's absence, or even the videos (which are thankfully forgotten by society in general as several months have gone by) and he returns the teasing right back and finds it's not incredibly hard. There's still a stab to the gut, but he figures that'll be a new constant in his life and he might as well get used to it. Fake it, till you make it, right?

They toast a lot, they drink a lot, and they get gloriously drunk. Of course at least half of them end up curled up in embraces, sappily declaring love. Kurt just apologizes to anyone who'll listen to him for being such a Debbie downer over the last year, and promises to perk up.

Tina pulls him aside when he reaches her and squints her eyes at him "So you're over him?"

"Yes." It feels like a lie, but at least it's stopped sounding like one – _I'm getting, there. Slow and steady wins the race._

"Completely?"

"Yes."

"You could not care less about Blaine Anderson and his beautiful behind that was baked to perfection by the oven gods?"

Kurt frowns and shakes his head "I could not care less."

"So, it's of no interest to you that he's currently in New York collaborating on a brand new Broadway musical, writing most of its score and still undecided about taking one of the leads?"

"What?" he can't help it that his heart skips beats (plural beats, yes) and still manages to be faster than before "What…"

"Ahh, so you do care."

"He's here?" Kurt asks, his voice small and his head aching with the realization that he's_ far _from 'over Blaine'. So pathetically far – _make it till you fake it, my ass_. And Blaine might not want to see him, but he needs to. Kurt needs, at the very least, closure.

xxx

Three days, a rather painful hangover and too much nervous fretting later and Rachel storms into the loft happily announcing, "I did it! I saved the day!"

Kurt turns to her as she hands out a folder to him. "Fill it out. I got you an audition for Blaine's show." She beams, "And you better nail it, because I vouched for you."

"I… Oh wow, Rach, thank you. But… I don't… I don't know if I should just… I don't know. What if he thinks I'm just messing with him or something?"

"Kurt. Come on. You want to talk to him and that's legitimate – no one blames you for wanting that. And also, he knows you're a NYADA student, he knows Broadway is your dream. He would be stupid to be truly surprised to see you there. I asked around about the part I got you the audition for, and it's right up your alley. It's not exactly countertenor, but it'll compliment your voice well enough, and it suits you like a glove. It'd be a great stepping stone and you'd be originating a role."

Kurt stares at her speechless.

"Come on, Kurt, even if you decide you don't want to talk to him, you can't just pass up opportunities like these."

"No… no I can't…" he sighs.

xxx

The inside of a theater when there's no show running is almost intimidating. It feels empty and… untouched. He asks the receptionist about the auditions and she directs him towards the backstage, where a line of chairs is already filled with nervous looking young men like himself.

He's trying to find a good spot of wall to stand against – all the chairs are taken – when a side door to the stage opens and Blaine, oh my god Blaine, comes out holding a clipboard and calling "Alright, let's do this! Clinton J- Kurt?"

Kurt can't do anything but smile, and he's never felt as much relief as when Blaine actually smiles back. "Hi." He breathes, allowing himself to step a little closer.

"Hi!" Blaine says and laughs and runs a hand through his face before shaking his head and asking, "What're you doing here?"

"Auditioning, actually."

"Oh!" Blaine gasps and immediately beams, "Oh my god! That's-That's… !Great! How is it possible that I've never heard you sing? I… I can't wait."

Kurt smiles and fights the urge to duck his head or scratch the back of his neck "Well, here's to hoping you guys like it, right?"

"Right." Blaine laughs, just as another guy, older and sturdier appears by the door, "Blaine? What's the hold up?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Kurt gasps, "Go on."

"Yeah, I, huh,… could you… could you stay afterwards?" Blaine asks nervously edging between walking closer to Kurt or walking backwards to the door "So we could, huh, talk?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Kurt nods before Blaine is physically pulled back inside and Kurt is left standing there, watching as the door closes behind him. He ignores the eyes on him and happily leans against a wall to wait his turn.

Each audition takes longer than Kurt thought it would and there are quite many guys before him and apparently he really shouldn't have had that second coffee before coming here. Knowing that there's no way he could be called anytime soon he goes for the bathroom, choosing a stall instead of the urinals so he can sit down and silently freak out abut seeing Blaine again and getting to perform in front of him afterwards.

The door swings open not five seconds after Kurt's sat down with his head between his knees; voices appear as steps walk over to the urinals.

"- last guy is a disaster. I mean, are we really supposed to believe that's his real hair color?" A gruffy voice Kurt barely recognizes as the man who called Blaine back inside is asking.

"It's not like you have much moral in the subject," Blaine's voice says, and Kurt can hear the sound of zippers opening "Or do you honestly think your dark hair passes for 60 years old?"

"At least I paint it the color it originally was."

Blaine snorts, but doesn't comment further.

"So who was that guy you were talking to?"

"Huh?" Blaine prompts distractedly.

"In the hallway, just before the first one?"

"Who – oh, him. Nobody, really. Just an acquaintance."

The sound of zippers closing, flushing, water running. The sound of Kurt's heart sinking to his stomach, to his feet.

_Nobody, really._

Is that why Blaine was smiling? Because he's moved past Kurt so far and so fast that it doesn't even bother him to meet, to talk to him and pretend like everything's fine?

Kurt can't do much except stand there in the middle of his stall and wish he were anywhere else. It's not the first time he's ever felt this small, this insignificant and this humiliated, but it's probably the time it hurts the most. He doesn't understand anything of what just happened – he can't connect Blaine's words right now with his smile in the corridor and it scares him to think of the possibilities.

He can't even calm down enough to think of a _reasonable_, good explanation for it because Blaine's voice and the word _Nobody_ is just that loud in his head.

He almost goes home. Almost. But Rachel is right. He can't waste this opportunity. He can't, not for Blaine and not for self-pity. He stays and waits (almost) patiently until Blaine calls his name, his smile sickly sweet and Kurt wants to slap it off his face. He decides he might as well use it to give his best performance of that song yet.

He walks briskly up the stage and tries to smile, and it does help a little that the spotlight half blinds him as he says "Hello, my name is Kurt, and I'll be singing _I'm The Greatest Star_, from the timeless musical Funny Girl."

"Interesting choice," a voice he doesn't recognize says, "Please."

He nods, grabs the microphone off its stand, takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders and starts "I got thirty six expressions…"

He sails through the song like it's his bitch. He climbs stage structures, he twirls sai swords, he mock throws them, he owns the stage, he sings his lungs out and he knows it, he just owns it "_Have you guessed yet, who's the best yet?_"

By the time he cuts the last note he knows he'll be called back, he has to.

Blaine is on his feet, not quite clapping but beaming with his hands pressed to his cheeks.

"That was certainly impressive, Mr. Hummel." The unfamiliar voice yanks Kurt's eyes away, "I do think we'll be in touch."

He breathes and lets out a satisfied little yelp before bowing politely and saying "Thanks, thanks for your consideration. Have a good day."

As he steps off the stage the way that Blaine is looking at him and smiling, the way his face catches the backlight, it almost stops Kurt in his tracks. But not completely. He walks through that corridor, practically jogs outside and he goes back to the loft.

_Nobody, really._

He can't bring himself to tell Rachel and Santana how much of an utter failure the whole thing was, and he's not exactly sure who he has to blame for it, so he avoids them at all costs to the point of accepting the night shifts for the rest of the week.

Which turns out to be a sort of a mistake.

It's one am and the diner is empty except for himself and Dani in the back working on her songs, when the bell jingles and Kurt looks up to find Blaine walking inside. Hands nervously clenching at his sides, eyes searching and biting his lip. "Hi…" he says, softly, chancing to step closer to Kurt, where he stands behind the counter.

"Hi." Kurt replies carefully.

"I was… Hm, you didn't stay yesterday."

"No, I didn't." Kurt shakes his head slowly, and sees from the corner of his eye as Dani, very slowly and quietly, makes her way to the break room. He almost wishes she didn't.

Blaine's eyes follow Dani as well, but he turns back to Kurt with a shy, careful smile once she closes the door, "Huh, so… I was hoping we could talk because… because there's actually a lot I want to say to you. About… about us. And I… I hope it's okay that I came here, but I needed to talk to you."

"I don't know why you would."

"Excuse me?" he frowns, apparently confused.

"After all I'm nobody, really. Just an acquaintance. Nobody." He waits for Blaine to say something but he just stares back, frowning, mouth slightly parted and trying to find words that aren't there "I heard you." It hurts even more that Kurt has to explain, Blaine doesn't even remember so completely dissing him, "In the bathroom, before my audition. I was in the stall. I heard you with that man. He asked you who I was, and you said I was nobody."

"Oh." Blaine tilts his head and deepens his frown "And you wanted me to make it look like you had an unfair advantage over the other men auditioning for that part? You wanted him to think I would be biased in my decision? Kurt, he's the director, and he's the most paranoid man in the entertainment business; he hates it when people are shoved into productions because they know someone, and not because of their talent. If he thought I was trying to give you an unfair advantage, he'd cut you out, no matter how good you were. I'm sorry you heard that, but I swear I didn't mean it."

Kurt licks his lips and swallows and he almost wants the relief to come and hit him, but it doesn't. It's just always too much with Blaine – will it always be like this? Will his heart always work in the extremes when it comes to Blaine, either soaring towards the moon or sinking to unchartered depths? It feels like a hurricane, an earthquake, a tsunami… it feels like his world is turned upside down each time, and whether the results are thrilling or devastating, Kurt will never be able to stop himself from feeling them so intensively his heart might actually decide to quit on him at some point.

"Kurt. I, huh, - the auditions end tomorrow and they'll have callbacks next week and rehearsals start next month, but… I don't really have any intention to stick around after tomorrow." He looks around the diner as he bites his lip and turns back to Kurt, smiling softly, "Unless… unless I have a good reason to."

"What're you saying?"

"I just… Well, first I guess I'm apologizing for just running out on you the way I did all those months ago. I was scared and confused and it's no excuse… And I said things that… probably weren't fair and I didn't stick around to see if they were, anyway. But. Hm. I'm so sorry for that, Kurt. You caught be at the end of my rope, and that wasn't fair for anybody involved, but especially you."

Kurt stops himself from accepting it on the spot, "Ok. But still, you could've… It's been_ months_! Not a word,… just nothing. Months, Blaine. I never even really blamed you for that night, Blaine, trust me, I really didn't. But for months all I had from you was an apology on TV and dead silence…"

"Why do you think I'm doing Broadway, Kurt?" Blaine shrugs, looking like a single gush of wind would blow him away, "Once I realized you probably never meant it, you know, _that_ way… it-it took me a while to see that, but once I did, I just didn't… I didn't really know how to call you after the way I behaved. Twice. I just figured you'd probably never want to see me again after that, and so I just…" he bites his lips, and steps further towards Kurt "but I wanted to see you_ so_ much, I just didn't know what to do… Peter came up to me with the idea for the show, and it was Broadway, and I couldn't not say no, because you're here. But I've been sitting in my hotel just staring at the phone, not knowing what to say. And then I thought maybe if I was here and you didn't completely hate me, then_ maybe_ you could come find _me_, you know? It's stupidly unfair putting that responsibility on you, but I couldn't just… show up on your doorstep again. So, I… huh, I really hope the audition wasn't the only reason you were there yesterday, Kurt."

"Blaine…"

"What I'm trying to say is just…" taking a deep breath Blaine seems to be steeling himself to look Kurt in the eye, stepping closer and bouncing just slightly on the balls of his feet, "If I didn't go away tomorrow; if I stayed and took a part in the production. Would you, maybe, let me see you a little? Or a lot…?" he asks, fleeting, hopeful smile permeating his anxiety, "See if you could like me again?"

Kurt's brain all but collapses and reboots within two minutes. It feels like putting burning charcoal in his mouth as he formulates the words, but he does nonetheless, "I, huh,… I remember the first time you asked me out," Kurt says, throat dry and harsh, "and I asked you if anyone ever said no to those… and wow." he lets out a single bitter chuckle "Here I am… saying no."

Blaine freezes. For a second he just stands there, immobile, not breathing, not blinking, before his whole body just deflates and he nods with something between a smile and a grimace.

"I just…" Kurt breathes, running a hand through his hand and making the fear in his stomach translate into words "You come and you go, Blaine." he says, "And each time here I am, picking up the pieces. And you get to move on to your next great project and never think about me again. But me? I don't get that luxury. Everywhere I go I'll be reminded of you. You're on every bus, on every outdoor, on every TV screen. You're everywhere and everyone gets to look at you and… not the way that I did, never like that, but they still _do_… and I'm supposed to be stuck with_ that_? To be okay with getting just as much glimpses of you as the rest of the world. _Always_ too much and never enough." Kurt breathes and tries to have the courage to look Blaine in the eye as he says it "So you see, what_ I'm_ trying to say is, if I said yes, and you just… took off again, I'd drown in it, Blaine, and I'm just… I'm just some kid from Ohio with unrealistically big dreams, and I've got to pick my battles. I can't just let you take my world by storm every time you feel like it. I'm trying to build something for myself, and if you keep… distracting me like that…!" he sighs and presses the palms of his hands to the eyes, willing the slow building burn to stop, "I just… I don't think I can."

"Okay." Blaine nods, and he's so clearly trying to maintain a polite, diplomatic smile on his face even through his spilling tears, as he keeps his eyes on the floor "I'm so sorry you feel that way, Kurt. It wasn't ever my intention to do that to you." He apologizes in slow, careful words, but as he finishes he swallows and frowns and looks back up at Kurt, "But, hm…, just so you know, none of that is real. The fame…? The outdoors and the magazines? That's not real, that's not _me_." He thumbs at his tears and shakes his head, "It's not who I am. _You _know that, Kurt. I _know _you do. And I can't – I can't stop those but, hm… And the big projects? Those can't do anything to help with the fact that I can't ever stop thinking about you, and I really, really can't…" Blaine hangs his head and takes a few deep breaths. When he looks back to Kurt his eyes are pained and dejected, but he's brushing away the tears, and there's, somehow, still a smile on his lips, "Kurt, despite what you might think, right now… I'm just… I'm just another boy from Ohio standing right here,… asking… asking this wonderful boy to love him." He shrugs, like it's that simple.

"Blaine…" Kurt gasps.

"I, huh, I brought you this…" he says placing a little box on the counter and wiping fresh tears off his cheek with haste, and Kurt hadn't even noticed him holding it in his fisted hands, "Don't open it now, it's… super silly. But I want you to have it, and, huh, I do mean it."

"Blaine."

"Goodbye, Kurt." Blaine says, taking a deep breath and managing another wide smile that looks impossibly and devastatingly miserable.

"Bye…"

xxx

Back at the loft they somehow listen to him without interruption. At the end they exchange worried glances before nodding and saying, "Yeah, yeah, you were right."

"Honestly, Hummel, he had it coming… you're not a damn yo-yo."

He breathes with relief "I made the right choice…" he assures himself, and the three of them fall into the most uncomfortable silence that's ever graced the loft (which is saying a lot). Every cell in Kurt's body is screaming and telling him he's insane and then the silence and the way it feels like it's earsplittingly telling him the same, like the silence is the combination of everybody's real voice, manifesting itself angrily at the conscious and collective stupidity happening.

"What's in the box?" Rachel asks softly.

It makes Kurt's chest ache to look at it again "It's a friendship bracelet and a mini time machine."

"Oh…" Rachel sighs sweetly, before she can stop herself.

"Is it store-bought?" Santana asks with a sneer.

"No… I'm pretty sure he made it himself."

"Oh."

The silence is deafening in its protests.

A cell phone rings and three of them jump. Kurt takes a deep breath as he realizes it's his dad and answers the call. "Hey dad." He sighs.

"Hey, Kiddo, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, not at all." He mutters, not even trying to sound convincing.

"You don't seem particularly well. Are you alright? I told you if you kept overworking yourself you were bound to catch a bug."

"It's not-, no, I'm fine, dad, I'm fine." He says, standing up from the armchair and walking slowly to his bed, pulling the privacy curtains slowly around himself before curling up at the head of the bed.

"Ok, but you don't sound fine."

"I just. It's complicated, dad."

"Oh, that's code for boy trouble, isn't it?" Burt chuckles, "You can tell me, you know."

"I just… I just…" Kurt says and he can't just ignore anything anymore as he whines in a desperate tone and lets his whole body collapse into a starfish formation, no more energy left to hold himself together, "He made me a friendship bracelet and a time machine, dad…"

"A time machine that works?"

"No! Of course not, dad, what are you even- no. It's just… just a toy." He rolls his eyes, "but he_ made_ it. Just for me."

"Oh, and who is it we're talking about here?"

"Blaine." He breathes.

"And who's Blaine?"

"He's, huh, he's someone special… but it's… it's so complicated, dad, because… he's kind of famous and it might've interfered with this… this thing between us more than once, so-"

"Kind of famous?"

"You've heard of Blaine Anderson, right?"

"You're my son."

"Good point."

"So, let me see if I get this straight; Blaine Anderson made you a friendship bracelet and a time machine?" Burt asks, and his voice sounds like he thinks Kurt's lost his mind.

"I told him only mom ever made me one, and he told me if he could he'd go back in time and make me one too."

"Ok. That's… sweet." Burt says slowly and carefully before clearing his throat "The context of this gift?"

"He wants to… try again. But I told him no."

"Try again? So you've tried before?"

"Well, I already told you, dad, it's complicated… we had… isolated incidents." He cringes.

"Isolated incidents? Kurt, he doesn't want to try again, he wants to try, period. You haven't actually tried before. Isolated incidents are not an actual relationship or a even go for one." Burt chuckles soothingly before he adds, "You can't just say it's complicated because of _isolated incidents_ when you never really gave it a real shot."

"I – it's not like that – I don't, it's-"

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"Don't just be stubborn." He can almost see his dad rolling his eyes, "Kiddo, it's not that hard trying."

"It's not just trying, dad. I'm not just being stubborn. I told you, he's _special_."

"You're just contradicting yourself, Kurt. If he's special why are you not going for it?!"

"Because! He's… he's too special… if he… if it… if it doesn't work again I don't know what I'd do."

"And if it does work?"

"I…"

"If it doesn't work, when the time comes, you'll work it out, you'll pick yourself up because that's what you do, Kurt. But what you don't do is run away from the things you _want_."

"Dad, I can't –"

"Kurt…" his dad says and his voice his so full of exasperation, fondness, understanding and amusement, "Don't do this to yourself."

xxx

"So, I fucked up." Kurt announces as he pushes the privacy curtain aside. The girls are still sitting on the couch, heads together and looking a little guilty at being caught talking about him, but shut up at once to look at him

It's Rachel who speaks first, slightly cringing as she says, all sympathy and condescension "Yes. Yes, you did, sweetie."

"Oh god…" Kurt groans and lets his head fall back. The ceiling isn't all that soothing either, though.

"Ok, Hummel, here's what you do now. You find him, and you tell him you've reconsidered and that he should reconsider as well because there's no way either of you will ever find anyone as vanilla as each other, which pretty much makes you a perfect match."

"Santana!" Rachel gasps, and Kurt just waves his hand dismissively.

"He leaves today. He might actually be leaving right _now_." He grimaces, heart in his throat.

"Alright. Let's go." Rachel grabs his wrist and without realizing they're out the door. Outside, he loses half of his hearing as she screeches "TAXI! TAXI! HEY, TAXI!"

They shuffle in and she turns back to Kurt, "Where to?"

"Oh, huh, I don't know, I don't-"

"Hummel!" Santana pinches his arm "Focus!"

"Not helping!" he glares, rubbing the red spot on his forearm, before taking a deep breath and thinking, "Ok, huh, ok, the Ritz…?"

"Step on it, Aladdin." Santana tells the driver who does bear a remarking resemblance to the Disney character.

"Hey!" the guy says, turning around instead of starting the car.

"I could've been truly offensive and instead I somewhat complimented you. You should be thankful, now get going before I start calling you something that actually calls for complaint."

He gives her a glare, she glares back and he turns to the road and speeds off towards the Ritz with a huff. The traffic is insane – this is New York City after, all –, but you can always trust a cab driver to be equally, if not more, insane. And it certainly doesn't hurt that there's Santana Lopez encouraging him to go the extra mile.

They do reach the hotel in record time and Kurt and Santana sprint towards the front door, while Rachel stays behind to throw random bills at the driver and take off after them as soon as possible.

They slam themselves against the reception desk and Kurt huffs out "Blaine Anderson, please."

"We don't have a guest here by that name." The receptionist says in a dull tone, like he's answered that same question a million times before.

"Oh, right, right. Mr. Frodo. I need to see Mr. Frodo."

The receptionist considers him for a moment before he arches an eyebrow and says "Nor that one."

"What? Shit, fuck… huh, how about… how about… someone short, Santana, tell me the name of a short character, come on!"

"Huh, oh, huh, I know, I know this, I know…"

"Harry Potter?!" Rachel gasps, reaching them and hanging on to Kurt's shoulder as she doubles over for breath.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Hobbit McHobbit?" Santana tries, "Shortie McShortpants? Daniel Radcliffe?"

"It's not helping, Santana." Kurt sighs and lets his head fall against the desk.

"Tyrion Lannister!" Santana shouts triumphantly, but the receptionist only looks at her unimpressed, before going back to survey Kurt's sad spectacle of a meltdown.

"There was a Mr. Yoda staying at our hotel, but he checked out half an hour ago."

"What?! Where is he?!"

"I believe his publicist said something about a press conference at a theatre somewhere. I'm not sure which."

"Oh, my god, I am! I know which theatre! Oh my god! Thank you!" Kurt gasps before he takes off running. He barely manages to hear Rachel's half screamed, "You'll be invited to the wedding!" before he's outside and hailing another cab. This one is a little less susceptible to Santana's incentives, but it's still their best shot at getting to the theatre in time.

It's a run for their lives as soon as the cab pulls over and this time it's Santana who dumps the contents of her purse through the open passenger window before catching up to their sprint towards the main door. The receptionist starts to walk in their direction, probably looking to cut them off, but Rachel does what she was born to do and immediately pulls focus "Excuse me, I am Rachel Berry, I am the upcoming Broadway star from the Funny Girl revival and I think it would be very poor publicity if you didn't let me go in there and congratulate my dear friends for what looks like a very promising show-"

Kurt doesn't stay to listen to the rest of her spiel, ducking around the reception desk, entirely unnoticed.

He slips into the back row. On the stage there is a conference table set up, several people sitting on it, including Blaine – gorgeous, wonderful, Blaine – at its very center. The first dozen rows are filled with reporters scribbling away as a man explains about expectable opening dates and whatnot.

"Next question." He says, once his finished, "Yes, Janice."

"Will Mr. Anderson be returning to New York soon as part of the production?"

The man looks at Blaine who smiles and leans forward onto the microphone "No. I considered taking a part in the show, but as it is I'm leaving this afternoon to Ohio for a break and some time with family and friends."

"Brendon."

"Is this at all related to the rumors about Sebastian Smythe and one of his band mates?"

Blaine actually laughs, "Not at all. Sebastian and I remained good friends, but nothing beyond that. I'm happy to see him happy."

"But can you confirm those rumors?"

"One question only, Brendon, sorry." The man who appears to be Blaine's publicist interrupts and Blaine just smiles diplomatically and waits for the next one, "Jenny."

"Speaking of rumors, as far as backstage Broadway is concerned, some have resurfaced related to your last stay in New York and a mysterious boy who, rumor has it, has auditioned for the show, and, huh, so… is there a love story in the making?"

Blaine's smile falters milimetrically, but it's enough for Kurt to want to just jump over rows of chairs and climb on stage and kiss it away, "Huh, no, no. Not at all. He's just a good friend, I… think. Just a friend."

Instead, Kurt stays in his place and raises his arm without really thinking about. Before he knows it Blaine's publicist is saying, "Last question, mister in the back. With the purple shirt."

"Oh." Kurt gasps, his brain a jumbled mess of surprise, self-consciousness and just overall feelings. He notices the way Blaine's head turns towards him, how his eyes find Kurt and how his face immediately changes – he frowns before a tentative smile spreads over his lips. It's all Kurt needs, really, "Huh, Mr. Anderson-"

"Blaine." He interrupts with a curious smile.

About seven thousand knots untie in Kurt's stomach – only three thousand five hundred and sixty four left, now. "Blaine," he repeats, sounding a little breathy but hoping no one will pay much attention to it, "Is there any chance that you and this guy might be… more than just good friends?"

"Huh, no." Blaine says, slowly, and frowning again, "I hoped there would be, but, hm, no. I was told there wasn't." He's looking at Kurt like he's going a little bit mad – which, granted, might be true –, as he answers.

Next to Kurt he can finally feel Rachel and Santana's presence and it does help his heart slow down just enough to get his voice working again, "Yes, but-"

"One question only-"

"No, no, it's okay." Blaine puts a hand on his publicist's shoulder and turns back to Kurt, his eyes strong with intention, "Please, continue."

"I was just… wondering, if it turned out that this guy realized he was actually being a coward, and he, and he managed to figure himself out and, and find his, huh, guts again… and suppose he realized that in reality the two of you do have something worth… _trying _and that he was so willing to do so…" He takes a deep breath, and much like Blaine the night before, steels himself for any outcome as finally asks, "would you… would you then maybe reconsider?"

There's a stretch of silence that probably feels twice as long to Kurt as it actually is. Blaine's frown is slowly but steadily turning into a full wattage smile, and before he even says anything he's nodding, "Yes, I think I would." He says, voice calm and gentle.

Three thousand five hundred and sixty four knots untie themselves and Kurt's heart is speeding through his chest in an actual attempt to soar through the roof. He can't help sighing with relief and grins "Oh! Well! That's, that's great news. The readers of The Fab Closet will be delighted to hear it."

While all around them people are frowning and looking confused between the two of them, Blaine bursts out laughing, hiding his flushing face in his hands before looking back up at Kurt, smiling so wide he's glowing with it.

He leans towards the microphone and says in a light, chuckling voice "So, I_ will _be staying in New York for an indefinite period of time, and I _will_ reconsider taking a part in this production. Thank you all for coming and for your questions, excuse me now!" his words are faster and faster as he gets through it, and once he finishes he's off the chair just as everyone's brains start clicking. Heads turn back to Kurt, who is standing there with the most ridiculous grin on his face, unable to look away as Blaine scrambles off the stage and sprints towards him. A sudden shower of flashes and questions falls upon them, but Kurt can only care about Blaine's advancing body and rushing to meet him halfway.

They meet with a seat between them, but it's not enough to stop their arms from gathering each other up, or their mouths from crashing in an eager, hungry kiss.

"Oh god!" Blaine gasps as he pulls away, "Thank you, thank you," kiss, kiss, kiss, "Thank you!"

Kurt just laughs heartily as he tucks his head into the crook of Blaine's neck and breathes him in, tightening their embrace.

**xxx Three months later xxx**

**Step 5: Enjoy it.**

Blaine's bowtie is being particularly uncooperative in staying straight (oh _ha, ha, ha_) as he unsuccessfully tries to fix it. As Kurt dashes in and out of Blaine's bedroom, making sure that everything looks pristine and presentable, the doorbell finally rings.

"Stop fussing, Blaine, you look perfect!" Kurt says as he strides over to the door.

Blaine lets go of the bowtie, but can't quite make himself leave the bathroom just yet. He eyes himself up on the mirror and squints, "Don't be silly," he tells himself, "It'll be fine."

The noise of the front door opening and voices coming inside yanks him out of his nerves. Stupid, stupid Blaine – he's the host and he's not even there to greet them at the door! He jogs out of his en suite bathroom, through the bedroom and the living room, into the entrance hall with what he hopes is a charming smile (and not a scared-shitless smile).

"Mr. Hummel!" he breathes, as soon as his eyes find the older man in a simple white shirt, a jacket draped over his arm, and jeans. Can someone actually feel overdressed in their own home? Blaine does, "It's so nice to finally meet you!"

The older man returns his smile, though considerably less nervous-looking, of course, and holds out his hand "So this is the famous Blaine!" he grins as they shake hands, "And by famous I mean the one Kurt won't shut up about." He adds with a wink.

"Dad!"

Blaine can physically feel relief flooding his body as he laughs, "I certainly hope that's me, and not some other Blaine he's found around town." He says, before shooting Kurt an appeasing smile, and then turning to the woman standing next to him, "And you must be Carole, such a pleasure!"

"Oh, likewise, Blaine!" she says accepting his kiss to her cheek.

"I'm so happy you could join us tonight." He sighs, trying to shake off any remaining jitters, "Please, do come in."

"We're happy to be here." Burt replies as he follows Blaine into the living room, "It's not every day you get to crash a birthday party for a VIP."

"Hardly!" Blaine rolls his eyes with a smile, "Kurt and I have a matinee tomorrow, and we could hardly afford to have a party tonight, anyway. I'm glad to be doing something so small, actually."

"Yes, well, happy birthday, dear." Carole says as she extends a small, but long bag towards him. It's very clearly a bottle, and while he doesn't particularly care for wine it still leaves him happy and giddy to receive it. His boyfriend's parents are giving him a birthday present and it's all he could possibly care about.

"Oh, gosh, you didn't have to! But thank you!" he says, accepting it and going to store it in the kitchen at once. He takes the opportunity to breathe for a moment before going back inside. Kurt's parents aren't entirely what he imagined they would be, but he probably should've expected that – Kurt's never been one for predictability, has he?

Once he goes back, he finds Carole clutching Kurt's elbow has they look over the view of the city, while Burt peruses the few pictures on Blaine's shelves. The apartment is still a little empty, he's only moved in a couple of weeks ago – but it's his first New York home and he already loves it more than he thought he would.

"Can I get you guys something to drink, before we head out?" He asks, as he politely checks the time.

"Oh no, Blaine, thank you." Carole beams, "The view is spectacular!"

"Thank you, I quite agree." Blaine nods, "Burt?"

"Not if I want to have a drink at dinner without the two of them getting on my case, no." Burt replies with an easy smile.

"Well then, maybe we could head out…?"

They have reservations for Blaine's favorite restaurant in New York, – it's small, discreet, and the food is absolutely delicious (thankfully, though, price isn't an issue) in its homemade Pino glory. It was supposed to be just him and Kurt, but his dad had called and said that he and Carole had miraculously managed to get some time off at the same time and that they wanted to come up for the weekend and see their show. Before Blaine could actually think about his words he'd suggested they come with them for his birthday dinner, and here they are now. Blaine's still certain that his bowtie is crooked and he can't make his hands stop reaching to fix it.

Of course he knows that the crooked bowtie is actually a metaphor for the four videos of him doing incredibly private things that Kurt's parents absolutely and one hundred percent know exist; for the less than pristine songs he's written, (the more recent of which about Kurt himself); for the thousands of tabloid stories that have been written about him, true or untrue it doesn't really matter tight now…

But right now, it's a little easier to deal with a crooked bowtie after all.

"Oh, let me just give Carole a tour!" Kurt smiles, taking his stepmother's hand and guiding her toward the hallway.

Blaine moves to follow them, but once he notices Burt isn't going to, his manners kick in and he's unable to leave a guest unattended to, no matter how awkward it might be to be alone with his boyfriend's dad.

He tries not to bounce on the balls of his feet – he knows it makes him look childish and silly.

Burt picks up a frame and inspects it with a smile before turning to Blaine and saying, "This is a good one."

With a horrible gush of heat to his face he realizes it's one of him and Kurt kissing at the press conference, the day they finally and officially got together, "Oh, huh, yes. I quite like it, too."

"Betcha it was the first time you enjoyed the papz being nearby to capture the moment."

Blaine can't help the chuckle that escapes him, "Pretty much."

Burt holds their grin for a moment longer before he turns to put the fame back. He clears his throat and then says, "You're welcome, by the way."

"Huh, Sorry…? I don't…"

"For that day; you're welcome."

"I'm not sure I'm following you, sir."

Burt laughs, "He didn't tell you?" he shakes his head and then mimics his son's voice remarkably well "_He made me a time-machine, dad, he made me a bracelet, dad, but it's so complicated!_" he chuckles again, clearly amused by his own impression of Kurt "I swear sometimes that kid loves to complicate things just for dramatic effect."

"Oh!" Blaine gasps, suddenly understanding, "You…?"

"I may have nudged him in the right direction." Burt smiles, "I didn't tell him what to do, of course, he knew that all by himself, he just needed a little push. He can be very… protective of his heart, and I don't blame him, after what the kid's gone through anyone would be, but I like to thing I taught him well enough to not let something good go just because it's a little scary."

"Oh! I… he… wow." Blaine breathes, and lets out a single, nervous laugh before shaking his head and saying, "Thank you!"

Burt nods and beams back to him, "I'm glad I did. He's very happy, Blaine. You should know that. It turns out you might just be as special as he said you were. And for all the right reasons, too." He adds with a wink.

To that Blaine can only gape – before he can think of something to say Kurt and Carole's voices are approaching from the hallway.

"We're ready!" Kurt calls, going directly towards the hallway closet to grab their coats, and the sight of him is, like every single time, enough to send Blaine's heart into a fluttering frenzy.

He can't help giving Burt one last bright, breathless smile, before hurrying over to help his Kurt – his wonderful, lovely, beautiful Kurt with the coat, to which his bright blue eyes crinkle as he sighs and grins, "Ever the gentleman, you are."

"Of course," Blaine leans over and kisses his cheek in response, before straightening out the lapel and saying "I love you."

He notices the way Kurt freezes for a moment; the way Carole seems to glance their way, but tries to be discreet about it; the way Burt continues on his way to the front door without missing a single step. Kurt's parents may not know it's their first time saying it, but they might easily guess by the way Kurt is suddenly bright red, and unable to stop grinning as he breathes "I love you, too.", and the way that Blaine can't stop himself from leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips.

It's been a long time coming, of course, and Blaine's pretty sure he's been in love with Kurt since he walked out of a break room in Kurt's clothes only to find him with his head stuck in a fridge. But it's still a little scary to admit to something so big, with so much potential to hurt him as much as thrill him; so it seems only fair that he got to have the same much needed push towards unfiltered, complete and utter honesty.

_**xxx**_

_**Thank you to everyone who's read and enjoyed this! I hope this is somewhat what one might wish for in a Notting Hill Klaine AU :)**_

_**xoxo**_


End file.
